Spin & Sway
by pattyrose
Summary: Sometimes, no matter how strong you are, life deals you blows that are too heavy to carry on your own. Sometimes, no matter how fragile you feel, you're the only one who can help bear the load of another. Sometimes when strong and fragile collide, the world spins and sways.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy 2014! I hope everyone is ringing in the New Year wonderfully!**

**So…I promised you all a new story in 2014, and here we go!**

**Thanks so much to my beta, Michelle Renker Rhodes, for once again, embarking on another journey with me. Love you lots, Girlie. 3**

**This will post twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays for now, but those dates may change based on my RL schedule. **

**It will be in alternating POVs for the most part, though next chappy is also EPOV.**

**Questions will no doubt pop up along the way, and I'll answer as many as I possibly can without giving too much away. ;)**

**Now without further ado…**

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Serenity Now**

**EPOV**

My hand curls around the neck of the half empty bottle, fingertips stroke its smooth coolness, the shape round and familiar. When I drop my head, I can taste it in my memory, feel the heat of it on my tongue, the soothing burn on its way down my throat. I swallow thickly.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things-"

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"Uncle Ed, how long you gonna be in there?"

"-I can't change, the courage to change the things-"

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"Come on, Uncle Ed! You're seriously worse than a girl in there!"

"-I can, and the wisdom to-"

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

"What the hell, Uncle, Edward? Are you jacking off in there or something?"

"-know the difference," I finish through clenched teeth, yanking open the cabinet under the small sink and quickly shoving cleaning liquids, shampoo bottles and all the other shit out of the way, so I can stash the half empty bottle-

There's a blue and white box I hadn't noticed before, the words _Teen Spirit Feminine Pads_ printed on it in swirly script.

"Fuck," I mutter to myself, "when the hell did this happen?"

While the banging intensifies, I hustle the liquor bottle back into the black Drano box for safekeeping. I won't put it to my mouth, for my own sake as well as the sake of the pain in the ass about to break down the bathroom door. The bottle just serves as a reminder now: a daily warning.

Hauling the bathroom door open, I glare down at my niece, but the blue eyes glaring back up defiantly are so much like her mother's, and that damn smirk is pure Jasper, and as aggravating as she is, I've got to fight to stay pissed off at her.

"First of all, Mel, I was in the bathroom for ten minutes, so calm down. Second, I need you to clean up that language. A kid your age shouldn't be talking about-"

"Uncle Edward, I'm almost _thirteen_! Practically a woman! You think I don't know about guys jacking off?"

"Melody," I say tightly, "I said stop. Whether you know about that stuff or not, I don't want you talking about it. And not that it's any of your business, but no, that's not what I was doing."

"Yeah, sure, whatever." She rolls her eyes and walks past me into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

I lean up against the wall and groan quietly, pounding my fists and crown against the drywall a few times. A few months ago, I would've chased away the irritation with a tall shot of-

No.

No.

Half an hour later, I'm the one banging on the bathroom door.

"Jesus Christ, Mel, I'm going to be late for work, and you're going to be late to school!"

"Almost done! Almost done!"

"Un-fucking-believable. And she's got the balls to rush me," I mutter to myself while tying up my work boots and then adjusting the tool belt around my hips, making sure I've got a couple of pencils in one back pocket and measuring tape in the other. I roll a pack of cigarettes under my sleeve. My fingers tap out an irritated beat over the hard hat under my arm.

"Mel!"

The door to the bathroom opens.

"Dude, they need to add a Patience Management portion to those AA meetings of yours cuz you seriously need to get a grip."

She rushes past me with her head down, picking up her backpack from the table as she goes.

"Hold it right there, Melody Cullen."

She stops with her back to me, and her small shoulders rise and fall, long, black hair – just like her mother's – swaying behind her.

"What the hell do you think you're wearing?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Melody, turn around."

She turns around slowly, little nostrils already flaring. At least I think they are. It's kind of hard to tell with all the bright red junk on her lips and the black shit around her eyes.

With another groan, I roll my eyes to the ceiling. "Mel, first go wash all that garbage off of your face, and then go change into something more...decent."

"What?! What's wrong with my face? And what do you mean something decent? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" She tries to pull on the hem of her shirt, as if doing so will magically make it grow another six inches.

"For starters, you've got more crap on your face than a circus clown. And that shirt looks like it would fit a two-year old. And let's not even get into the problem with those jeans…" I scowl and wave a hand in the direction of the gaping holes on the tight denim barely covering her left thigh.

"There's no way you're stepping foot out of this apartment looking like that, you know that, right?"

"Why not? All the girls in my school wear-"

"I don't give a rat's ass what the girls in your school wear. _You're_ my responsibility, not them. Your parents would've never let you-"

"Well _they're_ not here, are they?" she shrieks, looking exactly like Alice when she does so: the same fire in her blue eyes; the fire that branded my brother from day one.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Look, I know today's going to be difficult for-"

She doesn't let me finish before she drops her backpack and storms into her small bedroom.

"Fine, I'll change, but don't blame me now if we're late!"

The bedroom door slams, and I shut my eyes tight. Jesus, I love her, I swear I do, but some days I have no idea why they picked me over Rose, or even over Alice's own parents. What am I going to do with her?

What am _I_ going to do with her?

Another ten minutes go by before she's finally out, having washed her face and changed from the toddler sized clothing into baggy sweats and a fitted tee. I'm still not crazy about the way this shirt outlines curves that I'd swear weren't there just last week, but at least it covers up her stomach, and damn there's that box of "feminine pads" under the sink now, and I guess I'm supposed to have some sort of talk with her?

Her clear blue, makeup-less eyes glare straight ahead; pretty face hard and angry as she walks by me and picks up her back pack.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I turn the pick-up onto Hicks Street, I know I've got to approach the subject now if I plan to do so before we reach her school – or before I chicken the fuck out. How the hell do you have this convo with a kid, and a female one to boot?

"So Mel…" I very casually rest my left arm across the door's arm rest and lean back against my seat. Cool. Casual. "I saw that box of…uhm…feminine products under the sink."

She's got her head turned, staring out her window. Been like that the entire ride. It's a tough day for her, for both of us, and Carlisle has warned me not to let her retreat into herself too much today, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.

"So?"

"So when did this happen?"

"Seriously, Uncle Edward?"

"What?" I snort. "No big deal. All girls around your age go through that shit, right?" I try not to grimace.

With a dramatic huff, she swivels my way. I feel more than see her wry grin because my eyes are on the windshield, navigating the truck through the early morning Brooklyn traffic. Plus, this entire convo will go a lot easier if I don't have to actually look at her.

"Uncle Ed, Mom already explained all the changes my body would go through when I became a woman, and she and Dad both gave me the birds and bees talk. You've been spared that much, at least."

I've got this insane urge to wave a victorious fist high up in the air because thank God. Seriously, thank God for one less thing. But I repress the impulse, and now that we don't have to have this talk, I attempt to bullshit my way out of the rest of it.

"It would've been no problem anyway, Mel, if you'd wanted to talk about it. You know that right?"

She doesn't answer me, and yeah, I'm pretty much grateful for that.

"I told Aunt Rose when it happened last month," she says eventually. "She took me to Target and picked out the prettiest, most colorful box of pads we could find because you know, the flowers on the cardboard container will make the entire process so much more fun." Her tone drips sarcasm. "Then she went through the entire talk again, even though _I told her_ that Mom had already filled me in. Of course, Aunt Rose's was so much more helpful. 'Don't let any boys touch your boobs or your flower, and don't _ever_ let'em stick their penises in your vagina because now you can make a baby!' Ugh, thank God Mom and Dad didn't leave me to her. I think I would've blown my brains out after six weeks, never mind six months!"

"Alright, Melody, she's just trying to help," I say firmly. "Cut her some slack."

"I don't see how she and Dad were related."

"Well they were. The three of us are- were. Look, your Aunt Rose may be a bit…uptight, but she just says those things because she cares about you. You know that, right?"

No answer.

We make a right onto Henry Street, and when the traffic light turns red, I take yet another deep breath. "Mel, how do you want to handle today?"

"What's today?" she asks dully, staring out her passenger side window again.

"You know what today is." With a deep sigh, I add, "We can go visit them, but it'll have to be late tonight because I've got to finish up some stuff at work, and then I've got my meeting…"

"Whatever, Uncle Edward. Just drop me off at the corner. I want to walk the rest of the way."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I don't need to be driven right to the foot of school like a baby. Besides, those school monitors make me sick with the way they drool all over you every time you drop me off. Especially the red-head that's always asking me if you're seeing anyone. "No?" She puts her hands on her waist and sticks her chest out, and I can only assume she's imitating the red-head in high heels that does tend to grin my way pretty lustily when I drop off Mel. "Well, then please make sure you tell that hottie uncle of yours that I'm single, and I said hi!" She giggles and then rolls her eyes. "They used to drool all over Dad too, but not in front of Mom."

When the light changes, I pull into the corner at the next block and put the car on park.

"Yeah," I snort wistfully, "your mom would've kicked some asses. Never took shit from anyone, not even her own parents, which is why they disowned her when she married my brother. Matter of fact, your dad was a bit scared of her too, remember?" I grin, hoping the comment generates at least a small smile, a snort even, but that's not what I get. Not today.

Apparently, she's still on another train of thought – or pretending to be.

"Maybe I should just inform them that you only deal in fuck buddies. That might shut'em up. Then again, the red-head looks like the type that might enjoy a quick hook-up. Have you seen those heels on her?"

With a low groan, I turn to my niece. "Mel, you seriously need to cut it out with that shit. I don't deal in…those sorts of buddies."

She crooks a brow at me, just like my brother Jasper used to when he was calling me out.

"What do you call Heidi then?"

"I call her a friend and a next door neighbor," I sneer.

"A friend and neighbor with benefits, a.k.a: fuck buddy."

"Mel," I close my eyes and count to five before reopening them because I read somewhere that shit should help. "The relationship that Heidi and I may or may not have once had is none of your business, and once again, you need to chill with that language. You may be close to thirteen and pms-ing-"

"I am _not_ pms-ing. That was last month."

"Regardless, you're the child here, and I'm the adult, and you need to show some respect. Now get your butt to school. I'll see you at home later, and then we'll go to the cemetery tonight."

She stares at me, and for a split second, something in the walls she's trying to protect herself with today seems to crack. Her bottom lip quivers.

"Mel…look, I know things are rough right now, but it's a new school year, and-"

"Whatever. Bye, Uncle Edward." Her voice shakes.

She flips around and grabs the door handle, and I fucking hate myself because I have no goddamn clue what I'm doing here. No clue at all. But then, abruptly she turns back to me.

"I want to take dance lessons."

"What?"

"Becca takes hip hop lessons at this dance studio a few blocks from school. It's called _Baila_. She's says it's really good, and that the dance teacher is really young and pretty and kicks some serious ass. She can dance _everything_! Please, Uncle Edward? It's only three days a week: Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. A bunch of the kids in my school go there and they say it's sick!"

"Sick means…cool, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, it's cool. Dude, are you twenty-eight or forty-eight? Come on, Uncle Ed, I'm the only kid who doesn't have any after school activities."

"Because I work late, Mel, and I've got my meetings, and _you're_ the one who doesn't want to ask Rose or your grandparents-"

"We don't have to ask Aunt Rose or my stupid grandparents. The studio is right in the neighborhood. I could go home after school, get my homework done and then take the train back to the studio."

"You know I don't like you on trains or walking around the streets after dark."

"Then you could pick me up after your meetings!"

A car horn blares behind me, making Mel jump. I twist my neck around and see a cop car with its lights on, urging me to move out of the "No Standing" area where I've parked.

"I've got to go; we'll talk tonight-"

"Please, Uncle Edward!" she pleads desperately. "Becca says tonight is Bring-A-Friend Night. She can take me as a guest, and if I like it, I can sign up right after class!"

Fuck, I don't even know how much shit like this costs, and it's not like we've got a hefty stream of cash flow. My brother and his wife left me their precious twelve year old – and not much else. Oh, Alice's rich fucking parents will give me money if I ask for it – but then I've gotta up the kid. That's the deal.

And there goes another loud blare of the horn, this time accompanied by the bright lights of the squad car and the siren.

"Mel, I'm gonna get ticketed."

"Please, Uncle Edward, please! I swear I'll never ask for anything else again! Ever! Just let me go tonight, and then you can come pick me up and decide!"

She looks at me through those big, blue eyes.

When she was a baby, she was all eyes and jet black hair on this tiny, chubby body.

I picture her cradled in Alice's arms; carried high on Jasper's shoulders. Their pride and joy.

With a deep exhalation, I square my jaw and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Now I'm going to have to leave my meeting early."

"Yes!" she throws a fist pump high in the air before wrapping her arms around my neck. "Thanks, Uncle Ed."

I pat her small back softly, wondering what the hell I just let her talk me into.

What the hell am I doing here? Jesus, someone give me a clue, because I have no idea.

I've got no idea.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Give'em all to me!**

**Next update on Monday! Keep enjoying the first few days of the year!**


	2. Chapter 2 Ain't Nobody Got Time

**A/N: Yay, fanfiction is working again!**

**For those who didn't already read this on fiction pad, lol: **

**Wow, so excited by the response to this story. I knew it would be a difficult first chapter. Many of you were shocked/disappointed/angry/bewildered/confused/saddened by the fact that Alice and Jasper have passed away here. I apologize, but we will see them in flashbacks, and I hope that you'll eventually be able to see both Alice and Jasper in their daughter, Melody.**

**And Edward…yeah, he's got a rough road ahead of him…This chapter is in his POV as well. Next chappy will be in Bella's POV.**

**So let's get on with it, shall we?**

**Betad by my girl, Michelle Renker Rhodes. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer (I think I forgot to say this last chapter, but I'm pretty sure you guys know this already, right?) ;)**

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Ain't Nobody Got Time **

**EPOV**

I slam the nail gun down over the drywall a bit harder than necessary, earning a few chunks to the goggles for it.

"Then she tells me she's going to tell her monitors or teachers or whoever the hell that I only deal in fuck buddies. I mean, she's not even thirteen yet. How does she even know what a fuck buddy is?"

The sound of Emmett's hearty chuckles reverberates over the loud din of our tools.

"Man, thirteen nowadays is way different from thirteen when we were kids."

I mull that over silently, not enjoying that fact at all. Thirteen was when I had my first drink; my buddy Sam and I snuck a bottle of Jack out of his dad's liquor cabinet, and the rest, as they say, is a long and drunken history. If thirteen nowadays is way past that, then…I'm in fucking trouble.

"Besides," he continues, "ain't _nothing_ wrong with a fuck buddy. Or two. Not that that's what you should tell Mel. But if you and Heidi got a good thing going, don't let Mel make you feel guilty about it."

"Pass me the caulk gun," I mutter.

We work together silently for the next few minutes.

"That shit with Heidi's been over for a few weeks now anyway," I say while wiping excess sealant with my fingers and then cleaning them off on my pants.

Emmett crouches in front of the bags of dry cement and tears one open before looking up at me. "What happened? Come on, Man, take a break." He jerks his chin to an overturned bucket next to him. "You've been working non-stop for a few hours already."

I remove my hard hat for a second and wipe my forehead with the inside of my forearm. It's hot as hell today. Working outdoors is a real bitch when you've got the sun glaring over your head and back all day. With a heavy breath, I take a seat on the bucket and spread my legs, unrolling the pack of smokes from my sleeve and offering one to Emmett before lighting up.

"She started acting all weird, you know, like we were more than just…"

"Fuck buddies?" Emmett finishes for me with a laugh.

I chuckle. "Yeah. I mean, she knew from the get that…" I shake my head, letting the menthol burn make its way down my throat and into my lungs. "And then she was trying to be all sugary sweet to Mel, and Mel can't stand her, gives her some serious evil eye every time we bump into each other in the hallway, rolls her eyes if she as much as takes a breath in her direction."

"Oh yeah, I've seen that kid's eye rolls. They're award-winning," he chuckles again.

"I'm telling you, if I had a dime for every time…" I inhale the smoke deeply. It's the only addiction I'm allowed now, and hell, I'm going to make the most of it. "Point is, I don't have time for all that shit, you know? Relationships and…bullshit." I scowl while Emmett snorts his agreement. "Between Mel and the meetings and this fucking job-"

"Hey, hey, hey."

"You know what I mean," I smirk. "Look, Em, you know I appreciate you giving me a chance here, right? Taking me on as part of your crew."

"Well, you were Jasper's brother…besides, I figured some of them skills had to have rubbed off on you. The rest you've earned, my man. You're a hard worker, just like he was."

I glare down at my worn boots, full of dirt and paint and cement, and grind the smoke stub into the ground with the tip of a boot.

"But yeah, you don't need that shit," Emmett agrees, standing to turn the cement mixer on. "'Specially not now. You take it easy. Everything will work itself out soon enough. It hasn't been that long. Mel'll be okay. You both will."

I nod silently and get up, picking up another bag of dry cement over my shoulder.

"Hey, hold on. Let me get the other end of that before you hurt yourself."

"I've got it."

Emmett snorts, and I turn the bag over the mixer, watching it spin around inside the shaft.

"It's six months today." I glare at cement, sand and water turning into thick concrete.

"Yeah. I know."

"Five months and twenty-nine days sober."

I feel him staring at me. "Good for you, Man."

OOOOOOOOOO

The meetings are held at the Knights of Columbus hall on Varick Street, across the street from the Smith Houses: old, dilapidated projects surrounded by warehouses on one end and brownstones on the other.

We start with the Serenity Prayer; we always start with the serenity prayer. Then we go around the room sharing how long it's been since our last drink, how we got to where we are, why we know we can never go back. What we've lost.

Because this is our version of a confessional, except when we confess our sins, there are no prayers that'll take those sins away – only the understanding of those as fucked up as we are. You know what it means when you confess your deepest, darkest secrets to others just as fucked up as you are? It means you're in some seriously deep shit.

Less than halfway through the meeting, my phone buzzes with a text.

**Uncle Ed, I'm ready to get picked up.**

**Mel, I'm not even half way through the meeting. You said it ended later.**

**It ended ten minutes ago.**

**I'm not even half way through the meeting.**

**Well I'm ready to get picked up!**

**You're going to have to wait because I'm not even halfway through my meeting!**

I groan lowly, while up at the podium, Jason Lewis explains how he lost his family.

"What's going on?" Carlisle whispers next to me.

"Mel's done with her class."

"I thought you said it ended later."

"That's what she told me, but now she says she's ready to get picked up."

Carlisle nods and looks straight ahead.

"You know you can't make a habit of leaving these meetings early – especially not today, Edward."

"I know. She can wait a few."

"Are you sure?"

I don't answer him because Jason Lewis is up in the front crying now, I'm talking about these wracking sobs that shake his entire body, and I think that at the very least he deserves the attention of those of us as fucked up as he is. But I feel Carlisle's eyes on me.

Five months and twenty-nine days.

That's nothing compared to his twenty years of sobriety. A drop in the bucket. It's why he's my sponsor, why I respect his judgment, why someday I hope to be able to go up there, to the front where Jason Lewis sobs on about his divorce and say, "I'm Edward Cullen, and I haven't had a drink in twenty years."

Only nineteen and a half more years to go.

OOOOOOOOOO

About a half hour later, while coffee is being passed around, I turn to Carlisle.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Man."

"Yeah." He hesitates. "You and Mel gonna be okay tonight?"

It's been six months. Six months since that wasted asshole got behind the wheel. Six months since his jacked up decision put him on the same road as my brother Jasper and his wife.

Shit-faced motherfucker.

Just like me.

"Yeah, we'll be fine."

OOOOOOOOOO

**Hellooo? Where are you?**

**On my way.**

**Classes ended almost an hour ago!**

**Mel, you KNOW I have my meetings tonight. Now stop texting me, I'm driving.**

**I can keep texting you. You can choose not to read them while you're driving.**

While I put the truck on park across the street from the dance school, I mentally steel myself for a fight. If Mel's class is gonna end at this time every night, then we have a problem. Carlisle's right; I can't leave these meetings early three nights a week. Five months and twenty-nine days sober ain't shit. That fucking bottle calls to me every single goddamn day; it's my first craving in the morning, my last thought at night.

The dance studio is on Smith Street, and that right there is another reason why I don't think this shit will work out. When I was a kid, Smith Street, just a few blocks from the Smith Houses, was a rundown strip full of abandoned buildings, cheap Chinese take-out or small, dirty bodegas on every other corner. Old men used to play Dominoes loudly over fold-up tables on the sidewalk while the young guys dealt drugs a few feet away. Jasper and I would ride our bikes around, taking it all in, ending up at the projects before circling back home. Then Mom would yell at us about staying away from 'that neighborhood' – as if our little run-down apartment under the Expressway was any better.

Anyway, at some point, Smith Street underwent its own version of a renaissance, I suppose, and now the entire strip is lined with boutiques, fancy little restaurants and bars. The cheap Chinese have been replaced by Sushi houses, the bodegas have been replaced with Organic Markets. And the drug dealers wear suits now.

_Baila_ School of Dance is in the middle of the block. Instead of a big awning sign, they've got one of those fancy, old-fashioned wood signs that hang off a metal hook in a perpendicular angle. Now, I know for a fact those cost more to set up, which means that while it's a nice touch, it probably also makes this place pricey.

Climbing out of the truck, I swiftly walk towards the glass storefront, checking the time on my phone. The cemetery closes in a little over a half hour, so we've got to hustle if we're going to make it.

I stub out my cigarette with my boot and step into an empty, clean, large, white studio. Must be new. My mind automatically wanders to all the shit I can add to this blank slate. Walls and color and divisions. Half a dozen thirty-two inch screens line a long wall, but only one of them is on.

As I cross the room, I see a figure on the screen, in a fully-mirrored room, moving to some music I can vaguely hear through a closed door a few feet away. The figure spins and sways. Spins and sways.

Then she leaps.

And leaps again.

"Can I help you?"

I blink my eyes away from the screen. "Yeah, I'm looking for Melody?"

The woman behind the counter grins widely, one of those grins where the eyes rake you over from head to toe as the grin widens exponentially, and no attempt whatsoever is made to hide the fact that you're being blatantly eye-fucked. And then women talk shit about us men doing that. Anyway, this one twirls a strand of long, dark, curly hair around her finger and lifts her dark brows. I've got drywall, caulk, cement and God knows what else in my hair, under my fingernails, running up and down my forearms, and splattered on my work jeans, yet here she is sizing me up as a potential fuck buddy - as my thirteen year old niece would say.

"She's in Studio One," the woman smiles. "I'll get her for you."

Coming around from the back of the counter, she flashes me another grin, shaking her leotard covered ass a hell of a lot more than necessary while walking ten feet from behind a counter to a door.

Oh yeah, she's looking for a fuck buddy. But like I told Em, I don't have time for this. I smirk at her ass and let my eyes trail back up to the screen where the figure is still spinning and swaying and leaping across the room.

"Melody, mi amor, someone's here for you!"

She closes the door and walks back to the counter, flashing me yet another raunchy grin, her hips swinging from side to side. I repress a smirk directly at her, not because she's not hot, but it gets old.

"She'll be out in a sec."

I nod, anxiously checking the time again, tapping my foot. "Bit empty in here, isn't it?" I jerk my chin to the empty waiting area. Mel told me this was a popular place, but it sure as hell doesn't seem like it.

"That's because we've been closed for forty-five minutes, Papi."

"Oh shit." I rake a hand through my paint-filled hair. "Were you guys waiting for me? Sorry about that."

"It's alright. It was worth it waiting for _you_," she smiles coyly.

I snort at her boldness, but she just giggles.

"Anyway, _she_ always stays after classes, doing her thing." She jerks her head up to the screen. "And I was taking care of some work."

Again, my eyes move up to the screen. The beat of the song seems to have picked up, and the figure's movements match the pace of the music.

"Who is she?"

"She owns the studio," she chuckles, as if I should somehow know this.

The figure on the screen spins and leaps so quickly that it starts to make me dizzy.

"And I suppose that's her doing her thing," I murmur.

"Oh yeah. That's definitely her doing her _thang_."

I'm not sure how much time has passed when the woman on the screen spins one final time, around and around and around…and then drops to one knee, her arms splayed out like a bird's wings, her back and neck arched up to the sky as if in worship. It's not until the music has ended that I realize that my heart has been thumping to the beat of the music.

"Hey, mi amor, you hear me?"

"Sorry, what?"

Her eyes flash from me to the screen and back. "I was introducing myself, Papi Chulo. I'm Angie."

"Oh."

"Hypnotized by that dancing, weren't you?"

"What? No."

"You dance?"

"Used to. A bit. With friends and shit." When I was wasted. "Nothing like that, though." I jerk my chin to the screen, but the dancer has moved out of the camera's range. "I guess she's good at her thing."

"You kidding me, Papito? She's great at it."

My eyes remain trained on the screen, kind of hoping the dancer moves back into the camera's range, but then I blink a few times and turn away.

"Good to meet you, Angie. I'm-"

The door to the room opens. Laughing and giggling precede Mel's appearance. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, and she sports the type of grin I haven't seen on her since…well, in a while. She flashes a smirk though when she sees me.

"'Bout time."

"I told you I wouldn't be able to get here 'til later."

"Yeah, you weren't kidding when you said _late_-r. Jeez."

She rolls her blue eyes, and I reach out and tug on a bit of her hair before curling a hand around her shoulder, trying to usher her out quickly because we need to make it to the cemetery before it closes, and because as hot as Angie is, I'm not interviewing for a new fuck buddy, and because I'm hoping Mel got this out of her system and won't actually want to sign up. This place looks pricey as sh-

I hear a soft chuckle behind Mel.

When I look up, I'm met by a pair of the darkest eyes I've ever seen.

They're framed in a light, caramel face, the color of honey. It's the girl on the screen, though life-sized now. Her cheeks are red from exertion, dark hair up in a bun, but a few tendrils lie loose from the spinning and jumping.

My eyes lock on the dancer. I'm still trying to pull Melody out of here, but my eyes are on the dancer.

Mel stands her ground, refusing to budge. "Wait. Aren't you going to sign me up?"

With a quick blink, I break the off-balancing hold the dancer's eyes have on me and look at my niece.

"Mel, we're going to be late." I grab her hand and try to pull her along, but the kid won't give me an inch. Instead, she plays tug-of-war with both my hands, and while under normal circumstances, I'd just heave her over my shoulder, I don't think this new 'woman' Mel's become overnight would appreciate that.

"Please! They can do it quickly! Can't you, Miss Bella?"

The dancer's smile widens. It's a nice smile; a real pretty smile actually, set in a really pretty face; some might even say beautiful, if you were looking for that kind of thing.

"Sure. If your Dad wants to sign you up, we can get it done pretty quickly."

"Oh my God, he's not my Dad!" Mel shrieks as if the dancer just suggested she's the spawn of Satan.

It's my turn to roll my eyes, and I guess I do a pretty vicious job of it because when they land on the dancer once more, I feel off-balance all over again, like she's still spinning and swaying and making me as woozy as a triple-shot of vodka straight up.

"I'm her Uncle," I clarify, trying to blink away the lightheadedness and turning a smirk towards Mel. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

Rather than a smart-mouthed retort, this makes her giggle, again in a way she hasn't in a while.

Trying to ignore the way my head keeps spinning like I'm in the middle of a bender, I force my eyes back up to the dancer.

"Can we get this done quickly? Mel and I have someplace to be."

She raises her brows - pretty brows with nice arches - and yeah, I get the irony of my being almost an hour late to pick up Mel, yet now rushing her. But I feel like if I don't get out of here soon, I'm gonna throw up as bad as I did that time Sam bet me I couldn't finish every bottle in his dad's cabinet in under an hour.

"Sure, let me just get you the forms."

When she moves from behind Mel, I catch a glimpse of one of those black, exercise bras under the loose half-top she's wearing. They seem to be supporting a pair of perfectly round breasts. The short shirt exposes firm stomach muscles and a whole lotta smooth skin. She continues past me towards the counter and my eyes follow the tiny waist framed by a scrap of see-through material I assume is supposed to be a skirt, but it's about as thin as air and does nothing to cover up the plump ass cheeks that stick out from the bottom of her black panties – or whatever the hell those things are called. Long, strong legs complete the picture, and fucking hell if the entire package isn't the most perfect body I've seen in a while – or ever.

But I don't have time for this. Not for any of it, so when she steps behind the counter, I blink and force my gaze away because I need to get the fuck out of here.

Apparently though, I'm not fast enough because when I look up, Angie is staring at me with a knowing smirk plastered across her bright red lipstick-stained mouth.

"Angie, pass me one of those registration packets, please," the dancer says, and Angie passes her a few forms, still smirking knowingly at me.

"Well, I guess there's no point in my sticking around here now," Angie sighs. "Bella, mi amor, do you need help closing up?" She leans in and whispers something inaudible in the dancer's ear, which makes her first roll her eyes and then push her away. Angie giggles loudly.

"Goodbye, Angie," the dancer drones in a phony tone of exasperation, organizing what I assume is the registration packet in her hands.

Angie looks at me one more time. "Take care, Papi. It was good to meet you, anyway. And Mel's a great kid by the way."

"Good to meet you too."

"Oh, I know it is," she giggles, and then struts off, sticking headphones in her ears and singing along to some Spanish song. Still shaking that ass.

When she leaves, the dancer turns back to me, and I make my way to the counter.

"Don't mind, Angie. She's full of _shit_." She mouths the last word, smiling and flashing her eyes towards Mel, even though Mel's already got a set of headphones in her ears.

I chuckle, shoving a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I could sort of tell."

This makes her laugh. It's a great laugh. Full of life and energy and….

"She's good people though. And she was right about your niece, Mel's really funny."

"I don't even want to know what she's been saying."

"You probably don't," she agrees with an impish smile. "Are you…her legal guardian?"

"Yes," I say, steeling myself for the barrage of invasive questions that usually accompany that inquiry.

"Oh, okay. I just need to know for registration purposes." She pushes a couple of pieces of paper across the counter. "Now if you'll fill out these forms, I'll input the info into our system and have you out of here as quickly as possible."

I'm startled by her lack of inquiries, but I hold my hands out, palms up where paint and cement stain the tips of my fingers and the callused skin on my knuckles.

"I apologize in advance if I get some of this on them."

Her eyes sweep over my hands, move up to my hair, trail all the way down my face, my chest and arms. I feel a strange burn, sort of like the burn from a fifth of whiskey, wherever her eyes roam.

"No problem. My dad's in construction. I'm used to paint and spackle and plaster everywhere."

The impish smile turns into a grin, eyes sparkling and damn if she isn't just fucking gorgeous. She's the kind of gorgeous I vaguely remember finding women when I was three sheets to the wind, but I haven't had a drink in five months and twenty-nine days. She's got perfect, white teeth that stand out against her honey-toned skin, hair almost as dark as Alice's used to be. It's like fighting some god damn force just to tear my eyes away long enough to pick up a pen from the jar on the counter.

There are a couple of forms, so I take the one from the bottom and another pen and turn around to Mel, who's standing behind me with her headphones on full blast, hands tucked deep in the kangaroo-pocket of her hoodie, and pull the ear buds out.

"Here, Pain-in-the-Ass, this was your idea. Help me out with this form so we can be done quicker." _Cuz your Uncle's about to lose his shit over your new dance teacher_, I add mentally.

The eye rolls are back, but Mel takes the form from me and walks a few feet away to the waiting area, dropping over a chair. She sticks the headphones back in her ears and begins to fill out the paper.

When I turn back around, the dancer is watching me. She opens her pretty mouth to say something, but then closes it back up. Then she opens it again.

"Let me know if you have any questions while filling those out," she says before turning around behind the counter.

I start out on my form, too damn aware of the dancer's every movement behind the counter. She picks something up and puts it away on the other side of the counter, taps something out on the keyboard, fidgets and straightens out some papers.

My eyes trail back up to her.

She's staring straight at me.

When she realizes she's been caught – again - her honey cheeks flush the most exotic shade.

"I'm Miss Bella, by the way. I'll be Melody's dance instructor."

I set the pen down; registration, cemetery, self-imposed restrictions all but forgotten.

"I thought Mel said she was going to take hip-hop classes."

Her dark eyes are piercing. The recessed lights shining above make them sparkle and dance as wickedly as her body was just doing so.

"She is," she smiles.

I lean my weight sideways across the counter. "Now I'll admit I'm no expert," I grin, "but that sure as hell wasn't hip hop you were just dancing."

She chuckles and looks down before meeting my gaze again, long, curved eyelashes fluttering. "You saw that?"

"I did," I nod slowly.

"That was just your niece and me playing around. I dance lots of different disciplines."

"You're good."

"Thanks," she snorts, "but I thought you just said you're no expert." Her mouth stretches into a wry grin while her hand goes to her hip. A nice, curvy hip. "How would you know if I was any good?"

"I suppose I don't," I chuckle. "I guess what I meant to say was that you looked really good."

Another blush; a fuck-all beautiful blush.

"Thanks." She laughs and looks down again, and I pray to God she'll look up at me with those dark eyes once more.

She does.

"I'm Edward, by the way. Edward Cullen."

"It's good to meet you, Mr. Cullen." She stretches a hand out to shake mine. Smooth, feminine hand. Pretty, red-manicured nails, not too long, but not short. I can already feel them on my back; across the ink…

"You probably shouldn't shake my hand," I warn her, turning my hands from side to side in front of her to show her the dirt and stains; to give her a chance to get out of it, to back up.

She smirks, but doesn't back up.

Instead, her lithe, dancer's body moves forward, leans into the counter and I smell her scent; soft perfume and clean body and holy hell, it's the most intoxicating scent I've ever inhaled – which is some crazy shit coming from me.

She wraps her palm around mine, and then turns our hands sideways into a proper handshake, holding on firmly. She's soft and warm and her hand fits just inside.

"That's alright. Hard work never scared me."

"In that case, it's great to meet you, Miss Bella."

"Bella. You can just call me Bella. Only my students call me Miss Bella," she chuckles.

"Alright. And you can call me Edward."

"Alright, Edward."

We stare at each other silently, and she chuckles again, and I know I should be dropping her hand because I need it to finish with this form, and I don't have time for this. Not to fill out these papers when I should be at a cemetery, not for the coy convo that seems to be going on here. I've got no time for any of it.

Yet I can't seem to let go of her hand.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_**Mi amor - my love**_

_**Papi Chulo - hot daddy**_

**We'll have our first BPOV next…:)**

**Most of the country is in a deep freeze this morning. Stay warm guys. Talk to you Thursday!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**If you'd like to discuss this story, or any others in the fandom, check out the link for 'Stories by Pattyrose' on my profile page. :)**


	3. Chapter 3 - Meeting Him

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading, everyone!**

**This chapter is from BPOV. The chapters in this story will be alternating, but won't always be one for one. Sometimes I may have the same POV in back to back chapters.**

**Also, there will be a few small Spanish phrases throughout the story, but I've tried to translate them in the same sentence following the phrase, or to provide context in the sentence that will clear up the meaning. I think this is better for all than providing a TRANSLATION portion at the end. If you still have questions, let me know, and we'll see if we revise that. :)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Meeting Him**

**BPOV**

About a handful of the kids in my Beginner Teen Hip Hop class brought a friend in for Bring-A-Friend Day. Most of them can't dance to save their lives; though being young teens, they all seem to think the total opposite, shaking their asses, twerking and Dougeying as if that shit could ever qualify as dance. But that's okay. As long as they have fun, they don't need to be the next Julianne Hough.

That's my job.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Told you he was hot as hell," I hear Becca whisper - pretty loudly - once I dismiss the class. There's some giggling, and I see Jake smirk while he unplugs his iPhone from the stereo.

"Come on, let me introduce you to him before he leaves!" Becca exclaims, no whispers this time.

Becca and her friend have been laughing and giggling it up since they got here, ogling and whispering about my assistant, Jake, who's what, nineteen, twenty? And they're thirteen? Fourteen?

I intersect the girls before they can pounce on Jake.

"Hold on there, Girls." I get a firm grip on Becca's arm because she's ready to go right through me to get to Jake. "Becca, why don't you introduce me to your friend?"

Jake meets my gaze and mouths "thanks" before rushing out.

Becca and her friend bounce on their heels, looking over my shoulder at Jake's retreating form.

"Mm mmm," Becca moans, licking her lips, and I raise a brow, waiting for her to meet my gaze because seriously? What are these girls, thirteen or thirty?

She giggles shamelessly when she does meet my eyes. "Oh well. Hey, Mel, this is Miss Bella! The best dance teacher in all of Brooklyn! Miss Bella, this is Melody, well, Mel. Everyone calls her Mel. I brought her for Bring-A-Friend Day."

I'm struck by how dark Mel's hair is, even darker than mine. Yet unlike the lightly tanned skin I inherited from my Latina mom, Mel's skin is pure ivory, which makes her blue, blue eyes pop out all the more. They're like the crystalline waters in that beach in Puerto Rico to which my Abuela used to take me when I used to visit her as a little girl. I kinda feel sorry for this kid's parents; they're going to have to beat them boys away with a stick.

"Nice to meet you, Mel. Did you enjoy the class?"

"It was sick!"

"Great! You think you'll want to join us on a permanent basis?"

She bounces on her heels again. "If good old Eddie lets me."

So she's one of those kids; calls Dad by his first name, asserting her burgeoning independence.

"Well, I look forward to having you in class if you do join. But there are a couple of things you should know that Becca seems to have forgotten today," I say, raising a brow.

They both look at me expectantly, so eager to listen and learn. Now I'm no schoolteacher. Dance has been my life ever since I can remember. I'm not trying to teach them to love dance; that's not something that can be taught. But I want them to learn to express themselves through whatever it is that they do love. If I can do that, then I'll at least have done something right with my life.

"First, class begins at five thirty on the dot, not at five forty-five."

"Sorry," Mel says sheepishly. "That was my fault. I took the train over here and got off on the wrong stop and then had to walk the rest of the way."

"It's okay, Princesa," I wink at her, because that's what she looks like, a real-life princess, like Snow White. "It was your first time, but you know where the school is now, right?"

"Right," she says with a vehement head nod.

"Second, I know he's got a nice ass, but we're here to dance, not to hit up on Jake."

The both giggle profusely.

"Well, is it okay if we looky but don't touchy?" Becca asks.

"Yeah, is that okay?" Mel reiterates.

Seriously, how old are these girls?

"As long as looking doesn't interfere with your paying attention to either him or myself when we're trying to teach you, and as long as you don't make him uncomfortable, then I guess it's okay. Deal?"

"Deal!"

They walk away giggling some more and whispering with each other. Both are wearing hot shorts and cut off tanks, which is alright, except they're supposed to be wearing the shorts with dark tights underneath, so their ass cheeks don't show. I momentarily contemplate calling them back to give'em a talk on the dress code, but I guess I've given them enough for the night. If they show up like that again on Wednesday, then I'll talk to them about it.

I sweep both hands over the top of my head, smoothing down my bun and thanking God that I'm not responsible for any young, teenage girls.

OOOOOOOOOO

By the end of the day, I've taught six classes: Mommy and Me Ballet, Three to Four year old Ballet/Tap, Competition Level Pre-teen Jazz, Competition Level Lyrical, Teenage Intermediate Hip Hop, and last but not least, Zumba. Angie's my assistant in that class and a couple of others, though you'd never believe it by the state of her right now.

"_C__oño, Nena_!," Angie pants, dragging herself past the front counter before dropping into a chair. "Damn, girl, that new routine you made up for Zumba is fohckeen killer!" She fans herself dramatically while I bounce from one foot to the other, my heart racing, my muscles straining and flexing.

"Yeah, well, these bitties are paying me to whip 'em into shape, Angie, not coddle them by their muffin tops."

She laughs hard before gripping her sides and moaning. "Fuck, don't make me laugh. It hurts."

Now mind you, Angie's in great shape. She's been dancing for over a decade, and her figure shows it. But once she's done for the night, she's done; whereas, a class like Zumba just leaves me aching for more. Right now, I've got tons of adrenaline coursing through my body.

"Come on, Ang. That was the last class for the night. Come with me into Studio One and help me practice for that audition in a couple of weeks," I grin.

"_Vete pal carajo_," she replies. "Bella, how the fuck you got so much energy, Girl?"

I giggle while I dance a bit of Salsa in front of her. "_You_ go to hell, and I've got tons of energy because that's what dancing does to me!"

"And that right there is why you'll be famous someday, and I'll just be a lowly dance teacher. It tires the shit out of me. I don't even know if I'll have energy to give Tyler a good and proper fuck tonight." She tries to stand up and falls right back over the chair. "_Mierda_!"

I laugh at her again.

"Speaking of shit, is Eli coming to help you out tonight?"

"Yeah."

She snorts. "'Course he won't pass up an opportunity to claw at you."

"It's not like that. Not anymore. He's just helping me because he's got the connections; I don't."

"And he uses that shit for all it's worth. Trust me, I know it's not like that no more, and you know it's not like that no more," - she purses her bright red, full lips, index finger circling in front of me while her head and shoulders sway from side to side something fierce – "but _he_ don't know it's not like that no more!"

I sigh and drop over the chair next to her. "Well, he should. I've made it clear enough, Angie, and you know that."

She raises her dark, perfectly filled-in brows in a 'seriously?' sort of way.

"Nena, he's a man. In theory, he gets it because he hasn't had to see you with another guy yet. That's why he helps you, you know. But when you finally hook up for reals with some fine _Papi Chulo_? Nah, I don't think he'll be gettin' it too well then."

I pretend to pull some imaginary lint off my dance bra. "Yeah, well, I don't think I'll be hooking up with anyone anytime soon," I mutter, "so it's a non-issue…"

Angie sucks her teeth and moves her face into my personal space. "Non-issue, my _culo_! Bellita, seriously, it's time you got out there again, shook that ass for some new guy! When was the last time you got laid?"

"You know very well when the last time was," I respond vaguely.

"That dude from the club on East Broadway when we all went out for Tyler's birthday? Chica, that was over six months ago!"

I close my eyes tight as the images from that night bombard me. I'd let the guy take me to the back…push me up against the wall…tried to erase everything else…

…but everything had still been there…in the back of my head…every other time before…with Eli…with…everyone else…the things I did…I allowed done to me…

Angie's arms are suddenly around me.

My girl. She may be rough around the edges, but she feels me. That's why we've been best friends since junior high.

"Stop it, Bella! Stop punishing yourself for all that shit, okay? So you did some crazy shit back when, so what? If I were to feel bad about all the crazy shit I've done, woo! _Ay bendito_! Bless me, I'd never get out of bed!"

I stare straight ahead, nodding absently because though she's my best friend, I can't make her understand. There's no way I can ever make her understand when she doesn't know it all.

"And you know what?" she continues, "being around Eli doesn't help. After all, he's the one who-"

"Angie, Eli may be an asshole, but he didn't _make_ me do anything. No one makes me do anything."

She scowls. "There you go again, believing yourself to be a bigger bad ass than you really are. Remember that time you started shit with that big girl in eighth grade over a tube of lipstick or some shit, and I had to come save your ass before she beat the crap out of you?"

"First of all, it was the first lipstick my stepmom, Sue, had ever given me. And besides, I was holding my own there!"

"Pfft," she scoffs. "If by holding your own you mean you meant for her to have you in a headlock, then yeah, you were doing real good!" she snickers.

"Maybe I did. Maybe it was all part of my master plan," I say, rubbing my palms together.

We both laugh at that one. "Seriously though," she scowls, leaning back against her chair again, "I wish you'd cut him the fuck out of your life already."

I chuckle humorlessly. "It'd be a lot easier to do if he didn't own half this Studio with me, and if he wasn't one of the best choreographers in the city."

She leans forward once again, close enough to hold my gaze hard with those piercing hazel eyes of hers that make guys go nuts.

"Listen to me, Nena. You don't need him to make it out there. You've got talent, Bella! Real talent. He teaches steps; _you_ breathe life into them. Fuck him and his connections, and his-"

"What's she still doing here?"

I jerk my chin towards the benches a few feet away, where the pretty girl with the jet-black hair and blue eyes is sitting.

"Her name was Mel, I think. Becca brought her in to try the IHH class."

"That ended over an hour ago."

"Yeah, I know." I look around to see if there's anyone here with her, but the studio is now officially closed. Everyone who was still in here, gathering their things, waiting for rides and such, has already trickled out.

"Let me see what's going on."

She doesn't even seem to notice me as I approach her. Her eyes are closed, head tilted back. I can hear the music in her ears blaring from where I stand, and I'm about to poke her ribs when all of a sudden her face scrunches up into an expression of pain so powerful that my eyes widen in surprise. She bites her entire bottom lip into her mouth hard as if trying to keep herself from crying out loud, and then with a huge sigh, the entire expression changes and goes blank. She's just a kid listening to her music again.

"Mel?"

Of course, she can't hear me, so I reach down and carefully remove one bud from her ear. "Mel?"

She jumps and opens her eyes. A smile forms on her lips, but it's empty…and sad. My chest aches for this kid.

"Hey, Miss Bella."

"Hey, Mel. What's going on? You know the studio is closed, right?"

She frowns and reaches into her pocket, pulling out her cell phone. When she sees the time, her eyes roll.

"Well, I guess Ed won't be winning any father-of-the-year awards," she mutters dryly.

"Does he know what time your class ended?"

"Yeah, but he had something else to do. He should be here soon," she shrugs and makes to stand up. "I can wait outside if you need to close up."

"No, no, no," I shake my head. "You don't need to wait outside, Sweetie."

She really is a strikingly beautiful girl. But now that I've got her here alone, I see something else about her. She looks…lost…like she has no idea where she belongs. I know it's none of my business, but I have more than a few kids from broken homes in my school; kids with divorced parents, with step-parents, with single parents. Yet there's something…different about her.

I guess it could be a divorce. Maybe it just happened. It's supposed to hurt more when it happens to kids this age. I was only two when my real mom walked out on Dad and me, so I don't really remember shit about it. And then he married Sue when I was twelve, so I guess I gained a parent.

Jerking a finger towards Studio One, I smile down at the pretty girl with the beautiful yet sad, blue eyes.

"I was gonna go in there and practice for an audition I've got coming up. Miss Angie's too lazy to help me," I say loudly, sneering in Angie's direction.

She sticks her tongue out at me, blowing raspberries. "Ya damn skippy. Miss Angie ain't getting up."

With a snort, I turn back to Mel. "Want to come help me warm up?"

"Yeah, that sounds cool!" Mel grins, her pretty eyes brightening.

"Come on," I chuckle.

OOOOOOOOOO

There's a trunk in the corner of the room labeled, "Lost and Found." It's full of dance shoes that have been left behind for one reason or another. They tend to borrow from the trunk when they forget their own shoes and then return them after class to hopefully be claimed.

Mel rummages through the trunk.

"What do you want to start with?" I ask her.

She looks around the room, taking everything in; not that there's much to take in. It's a large dance room with a mirrored wall and a barre running across it. White walls. We've been open for almost a year now, but business has been so good and busy that I haven't had time to decorate or to add any finishing touches. And then after everything happened…and Eli and I broke up…and I regretted the day I asked him to buy this Studio with me because I thought I was in _love_, and no one knows about owning property more than Eli, and besides, what says love more than owning property _together_?

I snort to myself. Love was the last thing that relationship had.

Mel finishes rummaging around the trunk and pulls out a pair of tap shoes. I put on my own tap shoes while she puts on the ones she found, and then I turn the radio on and do a little dance for her, bending my knees, holding my back straight and tilting forward, grinning widely before doing a shuffle hop tap spring tap step step.

She laughs. "That was banging!"

"Yeah? How about this?"

I stand on my left leg and draw my right leg back and in and then swing it forwards so that the ball strikes, then the heel, then ball, then heel, in a smooth movement. Then I lift up my left heel with my right leg still in the air and bring the left heel down.

"Wow," she giggles and tries to copy some of the steps, but she trips over her feet.

"Watch it, don't hurt yourself!"

She laughs, again, looking and sounding much better than just a few minutes ago.

"Let's try something else," she says excitedly before returning to the trunk. This time, she pulls out a pair of Jazz shoes.

I switch into jazz mode and do a little cat walk across the room, crossing one leg in front of the other. Then I shimmy and worm across the floor and do some West Side Story before finishing off with James Brown.

Mel's clapping hard when I'm done.

"Man, I want to learn that!"

"Takes a lot of practice," I remind her. "Not just staring at the cute boy's butt."

She giggles. "I promise. I'll practice."

"Okay," I smile.

We fool around like that for a while, switching it up between jazz back to tap, tap to ballet, ballet to hip hop, hip hop to Salsa. She's got raw rhythm, and if she really does pay attention, she can be good.

"So what's your favorite so far?" I ask her after a while.

"Hmm," she taps her mouth with a finger thoughtfully. "They're all really slamming, but I think my favorite is still hip hop."

"Hip hop," I nod, "Hip hop's good."

"You're so good at all of them, Miss Bella, but what's _your_ favorite?"

"My favorite," I repeat with a smile. "My favorite is Lyrical Dance. Do you know what Lyrical Dance is?"

She shakes her head.

"Lyrical is a combination of ballet, jazz and modern dance. It's very…expressive. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it's very dynamic. You know what dynamic means?"

"Yeah. It's like…lots of energy," she grins, bouncing on her toes.

"Exactly, and I love that. It's like…you can show exactly what you're feeling through dance. Every time you dance, it's different depending on what you're feeling, even if you're doing the same basic steps."

"Can I see how you do _that_?"

I sneak a look up at the clock on the wall.

Mel and I have been here for almost forty-five minutes now.

What kind of father is over an hour and a half late to pick up his kid?

It's probably a divorce. And her new stepdad is apparently an irresponsible asshole.

"Alright," I agree with a grin. I tell her what song to play on my iPhone and then get into first position, closing my eyes.

As always, when the music takes over, nothing else exists. The next thing I'm aware of is Angie peaking in to tell us that someone's here for Mel.

"And _bendito, Nena_, bless me, is he smokin' hot! Oh man!" she whispers, doing the sign of the cross before pretending to touch something burning with her forefinger, pulling it back with a sizzle. "Hurry! _Avansa_!"

I smirk at her retreating form. When I turn around, Mel is smirking too, obviously having heard Angie's not-so-whispered whisperings.

"If I had a damn dime for every time…" Then she shakes her head and sighs. "Can you just finish dancing, Miss Bella. It was _soo_ beautiful!"

"But your-"

"Please, Miss Bella! He can wait a little while!"

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time we step out of Studio One, Mel is in a much better mood than she was when we first stepped in - almost an hour ago.

And her dad – or stepdad – is standing right outside, waiting.

I'm prepared not to like him much no matter what Angie proclaims about his hotness. He's obviously at least a bit neglectful.

But when I first lay eyes on him, I can't instantly dislike him.

Not necessarily because of Angie's comments, but because his eyes go straight to his daughter, and the way he looks at her…so full of this…awkward tenderness…kinda like he's just as lost as his daughter/step-daughter in this situation, but he does care. It's in that cocky yet warm smirk he gives her. He does care.

So I don't instantly dislike him.

Plus, Angie wasn't fucking kidding. The guy isn't just hot, he's over the god damn barbecue sizzling.

It's totally unprofessional of me, but while he and his daughter sort of greet each other, I check him out on the sly. He's tall, with broad, strong shoulders, brownish hair with these deep, reddish highlights where the light hits it. Some of the strands have a white residue on them. His t-shirt clings to his chest, dirty and also stained with white residue, but he's clearly ripped; hard, muscled pecks visible underneath the shirt so really, who cares about a bit of dirt and stains? Sinewy muscles and veins line his arms and forearms – also smeared in white residue. As are his worn jeans, and his worn boots, and he's got a couple of days of stubble on a strong, square jaw. A tool belt lies low around his lean hips.

When he looks up at me, his eyes are as green as Mel's are blue.

Mel's dad/stepdad wraps a hand around Mel's shoulder and tries to usher her out, but Mel holds her ground. All the while, his eyes are still on me even though I'm sure he needs to get home to either his new wife or his new bachelor pad, depending on whether he's the stepdad or the newly divorced dad.

But his eyes are still on me.

After a couple of seconds, I realize he can't be the stepdad. His hair is much lighter, and their eyes are completely different, but there's a resemblance there. Something in the shape of their eyes…their foreheads. There's shared DNA.

Mel asks me to sign her up quickly, and I can hear the desperation in her voice because her Dad obviously doesn't want to do this. So I assure her and her dad that I can get her signed up fast.

"Oh my God, he's not my dad!"

He's her uncle, he says.

Her Uncle.

My eyes flash to his ring finger.

Nothing.

He looks at me again, and then he looks at Mel, and then at me again, and in this deep, strong voice asks me if I can get this done quick.

"Sure. Let me just get the forms."

When I walk past him, I catch a whiff of cigarette smoke and man-sweat, but not the rancid kind; the kind of smell that comes from a clean man who's put in a hard day of work yet remembered to wear deodorant.

I hear his tool belt shuffle as he follows; the heavy, rhythmic beat of his boots against the floor hint at a swaggered walk. My heart is suddenly racing. I'm nervous, and I'm not sure why. I find myself wondering if he's staring at my ass. It does get stared at a lot. It's a nice ass. Usually it irritates me, but right now I'm sort of hoping that he is staring…and that he likes what he sees.

Angie is behind the counter and when my eyes meet hers she wriggles her eyebrows, grinning lasciviously, in an "I told you so" sort of way. I make believe I don't see it while I ask her to pass me a registration packet.

She sighs loudly. "Well, I guess there's no point in my sticking around here now."

Which I'm sure means something, but I can still smell him so my brain isn't working too well at the moment. His scent permeates the entire studio. There's something else I'm picking up in it now: wood and cement and paint. It smells like a lodge in here, a clean, sweaty man lodge with big, thick logs and a fire going.

"Bella, mi amor, you need help closing up?" Angie asks before leaning into my ear and whispering, "Bitch, you better hit that up!"

I shove her – hard. She snickers.

After Angie leaves, Mel's uncle and I make some small talk. I ask him if he's Mel's legal guardian.

"Yes," he nods, but his strong, broad shoulders stiffen. He leans away from the counter. The easiness in his demeanor shifts and yeah, I'm dying to find out how he ended up guardian to a young, teenage girl, but he obviously doesn't want to be asked. When I hand him the forms, he shows me his hands: big, callused hands with long, thick fingers covered in paint. My eyes trail over him again while he watches me.

He's a contractor, just like Dad.

When he takes the registration forms, he hands one to Mel and gets to it because like he said, he seems to be in a hurry.

So I try to leave him to it, to stay busy behind the counter, but it's like he has a presence that refuses to be ignored. I'm painfully aware of him and how his pen moves across the paper, how his heavy boots shift around on the floor, how his lungs take in deliberate breaths while reading the form.

When he looks up, he catches me watching him.

I should turn away. There's a reason I've stayed away from guys for the past few months. Angie doesn't get this, but I no longer know what a sane male/female interaction is like. The relationship Eli and I shared was so far from conventional and so…fucked up.

I can't trust myself to do things right, and until I figure all that out again, I've got to stay away from men.

But his green eyes hold my gaze with an intensity that makes it impossible for me to turn away.

And then I introduce myself. And we start talking again. And I think we may be flirting, but like I said, I can't be sure anymore of how these things are normally done.

When I reach out for him, he reaches out for me, and just like that, we're touching in a way a thousand times more innocent then I've been touched in a long time, but my heart races, and my skin tingles…

"Call me Bella," I say.

"Call me Edward," he asks.

And then Eli walks in.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Just as reminders:**

**Mi amor – My love**

**Papi Chulo – hot daddy**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**If you'd like to discuss this story, or any other fics you're reading you're welcome to join us at 'Stories by PattyRose'. The link is on my profile page. :)**

**See you Monday! Have a great weekend, All!**


	4. Chapter 4 Sign Up

**A/N: I loved reading your comments to the last chapter. Just to clarify something though, Bella was NOT raped in this story. I don't write rape stories. **

**To those of you who've sort of started to figure out what Bella was being so cryptic about regarding her past in the last chapter, Kudos. ;)**

**As for Bella, yes, she's half Latina, on her mom's side. Charlie is not Latino. **

**And regarding the Spanish…it'll be minimal, and I'll continue to try to make it easy to understand. **

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Sign Up**

**EPOV**

When the bell over the door chimes, Bella looks behind me, and I turn around.

There's a guy walking our way, dark-skinned, of medium height, wearing a black fedora and one of those short-sleeved shirts that are cut tight around the arms and chest to make it seem like there's more there than what's really there. His way-too-tight jeans should never be on any self-respecting dude.

The guy looks down at Mel, who's sitting on the bench scribbling away, music on so loud I can hear it from here. Then he looks from me to Bella, and then his eyes trail down to our hands - which are still joined.

He continues his casual walk, moving in behind the counter and wrapping his arms around Bella's hips before dropping a kiss to her neck.

"_Que pasa, Nenita_? What's going on? Sorry I'm late. Fucking dancers couldn't get their shit together."

Bella smiles, her eyes still on me, but the sizzle seems to have completely left those dancing dark eyes of hers. She drops my hand.

And since that's apparently how the shit goes, I resume my paperwork.

"I hadn't even realized you were late. I was just finishing up some stuff myself."

Out of my periphery, I see her squirming in his arms.

"You ready to practice?" he asks.

"Yeah." She responds, untangling herself. "Just give me a few minutes. I'm signing up a new student."

Ah, so that's what we were doing.

"A little late in the evening for a new registration. Isn't the studio closed for business?"

"We're almost done," she answers. "Why don't you go wait for me in Studio One?"

He doesn't answer, but I feel eyes burning into the top of my head, and so I look up.

Five months and twenty-nine days ago, the way this guy's looking at me would've had me asking him exactly what the fuck his problem is.

But five months and twenty-nine days later, I just hold his gaze steadily to let him know that I know he's marking his territory and that I couldn't give a shit. What the fuck would I want with a girl who openly flirts with a guy while already having a boyfriend?

Maybe I'll tell him what I'd want, I muse wryly, just to give him a reason to look at me hard.

But I've got Mel here, and I don't have time for any trouble.

"Let me make a couple of phone calls first," he says, dropping his eyes.

I snort quietly because he's not being fucking obvious at all. So I shift my eyes back to my paperwork, more than a bit pissed off at myself for all the time I've just wasted when I've got more important shit to do; pissed off that this girl just took me for an asshole, pissed off because the guy that I'm trying to be for Mel _can't_ start shit with this guy.

Then I get to the hourly rate for these bullshit classes.

Closing my eyes, I mentally curse myself for letting a pretty face make me forget why I was opposed to this shit when I first walked in.

"Are these rates correct?" I question, because she can't really be charging this just to teach kids to shift their feet back and forth.

"Yes," Bella answers. "Melody's class meets three times a week for ninety minutes each session, so you just have to multiply the hourly rate by…."- she pauses to do the math – "4.5."

"_Fuuuck_," I rasp out quietly, calculating the monthly rate in my head.

"If you'll give me your credit card," she continues, "I can set up your account while you finish with the forms."

My fucking credit card is loaded to the max to pay for shit my lousy income won't allow, and now I have to add dance lessons to the mix?

I turn around to tell Mel that I'm sorry, but we're not going to be able to do this, even if her teacher is gorgeous, even if she can dance her ass off, even if she did flirt that ass off so I wouldn't catch on to how ridiculously overpriced her shitty lessons would be.

But Mel is already walking towards me, bouncing really, with a huge smile on her face.

"The form's all ready, Uncle Ed."

And damn, I haven't seen her this excited in so long.

With a heavy sigh, I take the form from her, pull my wallet out of my back pocket and slide everything over the counter.

Bella takes it all and offers me another smile – which this time, I'm not stupid enough to return.

"Are we almost done? We're really in a rush here."

Her smile falters. "Oh…yeah, I'll get this done quickly."

I tap an irritated finger over the counter while I wait for her to do her shit. Now I'm the one glaring a hole in the guy's head, mentally daring him to look at me because my anger is growing by the second.

"Uhm…" Bella turns back towards me, looking downright uneasy now. "Edward, I'm afraid your credit card was declined," she says really quietly. "Do you want me to try swiping it again…? Or do you have another one you'd like me to try?"

Despite the way she's dropped her voice, I can tell her friend hears every word because he picks his head up from his bullshit perusal of his phone and pauses, his back still to me, and I wait for one word to come out of his mouth. Just one. Fucking. Word. So I give him a few seconds to think over his next move, to see if he wants to keep his teeth.

When it appears he's decided that not commenting might be in his best interest, I turn to Mel.

"Look, Mel…"

"Uncle Edward, please," she pleads in a whisper. "We can use the money the State gives me from Mom and Dad."

"Hell no. Every last penny of that's for college, and you know that," I hiss lowly. "We're not touching that money for some bullshit dance classes."

"Fine! Then I'll ask my grandparents if they can help out! I'll get an after school job! _Please_, Uncle Edward!"

"You're not asking your grandparents for a dime. And you're twelve. No one's going to give you an after school job."

"I'm almost thirteen! Uncle Edward, _please_," she pleads once more, her hands laced together over her chin, the corners of her eyes glistening.

Damn. Damn.

Shit, hell and damn.

I draw in a deep breath and think through my options; what if anything I can actually work out here, partly because Mel's about to have a breakdown, and partly because there's no way in hell I'm walking out of here giving this girl the impression that I can't even afford my niece's dance lessons.

Today was pay day, and though I've been needing a new pair of work boots and pants and was going to use a big chunk of my earnings towards that…I suppose if I have to, I can make what I have last a few more months.

What I won't do is touch Mel's college fund. What I won't do is ask Alice's goddamn parents for help; admit to them that I'm having a hard time, give 'em an excuse to try to take away Mel. What I won't do is look up at the pretty flirt here and let her know that we basically live paycheck to paycheck and that her shitty classes are gonna put a strain on me.

"Do you take cash?"

"Sure we do," Bella smiles brightly.

And now the asshole turns around.

"No, Buddy. We don't deal in cash back here. The system is only set up for electronic transactions."

"What the hell happened to the value of the almighty dollar, _Buddy_?" I sneer his way.

"It got replaced by plastic, _Homey_," he sneers back.

I drop my head and let out a chuckle, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"_God grant me the serenity…"_ I recite in my head.

A few months ago, I'd be lunging over this counter right about now.

When I look back up, Asshole and I glare at each other. Out of my periphery, I can see how uncomfortable the pretty flirt is, and I kind of feel bad about that.

But it's when I feel Mel's small hand wrap around mine, her fingers curling around mine anxiously, that I remember…

I remember why I _can't_ lunge. Why I won't.

"Uncle Ed…"

I breathe in deep through my nostrils, breathing out through narrowed lips.

"So who exactly owns this place so I can settle this with that person?"

"_I_ do," Bella says.

"We _both_ do," her prick boyfriend clarifies, throwing an arm around her shoulder as if I'd just asked who owns her.

Before I can say anything else, she rounds on him, jerking his arm off her shoulder.

"Yeah, we both do, but _I_ run the place, Eleazar damn it, and _I_ say we take cash!"

Fuck, she's even hotter when she's pissed. Her dark eyes are fucking burning now, delicious chest heaving, hands angrily gripping those perfect hips.

"Listen, I don't want to cause a lover's quarrel," I chuckle sardonically, and throw an arm around Mel's shoulder, turning her around. "Mel, we'll find you another dance school where they fucking remember that good old American cash is better than credit."

"Uncle Edward, I want this dance school! Becca goes to this one, and so do some of my other friends! And Miss Bella is the best; everyone says so!"

"Mel…"

"Look, we do take cash," Bella repeats. "It's not a problem, I promise you."

I should just pick up Mel and carry her out of here whether she wants to go or not. I shouldn't turn around. I should keep walking.

I turn around.

Bella's face is flushed. "He doesn't run this place, _I_ do," she smiles shakily.

There's an edge to her voice that makes me think she may be as close to losing her shit as I am. The way she looks at me…like she's pleading with me to help her make her point.

Meanwhile, her idiot boyfriend just stands there, scowling and fuming, but quiet.

"They'll take cash, Uncle Edward. Okay?" Mel says next to me.

I smile coolly at Bella and walk back towards the counter, pulling out my wallet yet again. I count out the first month's tuition and the registration fee, and hand them to her.

"May I have a receipt?"

"Of course."

There's none of the playfulness in either of our tones anymore. She prints out a receipt and hands it to me, avoiding my gaze.

"Here you go." She looks at Mel. "Melody, we'll see you on Wednesday, alright?" she says a bit too cheerfully.

"See you on Wednesday, Miss Bella!" Mel calls out, walking to the door.

I walk backwards to the door, keeping my eyes on Bella until she's forced to look at me.

"I'm sorry for any…confusion," she murmurs.

"No problem," I smirk, and then purposely let my eyes trail down her body salaciously, resting on her full tits. "I enjoyed every second of the…confusion," I wink.

Her eyes flash angrily, and for a fraction of a second, I feel like an asshole, but I turn my eyes to her boyfriend, and I'm not sorry anymore. This time, he's the one who seems ready to lunge over the counter.

"Take care…_Buddy_," I grin, waiting to see if he'll actually make that jump.

When he remains in place, I snort and turn around, whistling as I stroll through the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

With less than ten minutes to spare before the cemetery closes for the night, I'm full of grins and winks for the girl at the gate. After promising her that I'll take her number when we have more time, she raises the divider and lets us through.

"Un-fucking-believable," Mel mutters.

"Watch your language. I had no choice. I had to turn on the charm."

"Yeah," she snorts. "The way you turned it on at the studio? You're a charmer, alright."

I don't respond to that, and we drive silently through the darkened cemetery until we arrive at the side by side lots.

Side by side – even in death.

The headstones were just erected a couple of weeks ago. Apparently, it takes a while to have headstones made. I wanted to make them myself, but the cemetery wouldn't allow that.

Anyway, the headstones are nothing fancy or long-winded. Neither one of them would've wanted that. Moonlight reflects off of the dark granite, illuminating their names and those few words that do such a poor job of summarizing their lives:

_**Jasper Adam Cullen (1982 – 2013): Devoted brother, husband and father. **_

_**Mary Alice Cullen (1983 – 2013): Faithful wife, mother and friend**_**.**

_**Gone too soon, but never forgotten.**_

Gone too soon, thanks to a fucking piece of drunken garbage…just like me.

Mel and I stand quietly in front of the headstones.

"Do you want a couple of minutes alone with them?" I ask Mel. "I can go take a seat at the bench there while-"

"No, I don't want time alone with them. I'm not five years old, Uncle Edward. I know that they're not really here."

She's back to being the flippant, wise-ass I've been taking care of for the past six months; reverted back to her new, standard attitude on the car ride over here.

"It has nothing to do with being five or twenty-five. Jesus, Mel, talk to them. Let 'em know how you're doing; what you're feeling. Let _someone_ know how you're feeling since you won't talk to your school counselor or to the-"

"I don't have anything to talk about!" she yells. "They're dead, and that's all there is to it! Stop trying to get me to talk to them when they're _dead_!"

"Alright, calm down. We've only got about five minutes here. Let's not waste them-"

"Five minutes to what? To talk to headstones that can't hear shit? This is stupid! I'm going to wait in the truck!" She storms off towards the truck.

"Mel! Mel, get your ass back over here! Damn it, Mel!"

But she doesn't listen. She stalks back to the truck, hauls open the passenger side door, and climbs in, slamming the door behind her.

"Shit," I mutter, raising both hands to grip the back of my neck tight. "Shit. Shit." I stare after her for about thirty seconds before turning back to my brother and sister-in-law. With a deep breath, I drop to my knees in front of them, hanging my head.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying. I swear I'm trying. What's going on…let me see…I think she's doing better in school…got an eighty-five on her last math test…so…you know…that's good. Been hanging out with a new friend; Becca, her name is. Rose says that's good. She should be making friends. Oh yeah, I signed her up for dance classes today," I smile. "She's really excited about them. I know it doesn't seem like it," I smirk, "but she is. She'll be taking hip hop classes three days a week. Don't know how I'm going to manage it with the monthly tuition and having to leave the AA meetings early, but I'll figure it out. Don't worry about it. Did Rose come see you earlier today? She said she was going to try, but you know she doesn't like bringing the little ones to the cemetery. Thinks they're going to have nightmares. Well, you know how uptight she is, Jasper," I smile. "You and I had to grow up with her. Al, Mel's looking so much like you lately. This morning, I looked at her and she looked just like you…she's getting so big…no, don't worry; I didn't let her out of the house in those jeans. Matter of fact, I'm gonna burn 'em as soon as we get home." I chuckle.

Then I chuckle some more. Before I know it, I'm full out laughing. I've got to hold my ribs from the force of the laughter, press down on them really tight because it hurts. I'm laughing, but it doesn't feel good, and God, when is it going to feel good? When is it going to feel alright?

"I don't know what you two were thinking leaving her to me. Seriously. I mean, yeah, Rose has three kids and an asshole for a husband, and Al, your parents are probably the biggest jerks on the planet, but me?" I swallow thickly. "I'm trying. Jesus, I'm trying," I choke, squeezing my eyes shut. "But every morning I _need_ a fucking drink, and every night…"

I make myself stop. This isn't what they want to hear. This isn't what they _need_ to hear. So with a deep breath, I fill my lungs with the night air and look up, staring at grey headstones and trying to picture their faces instead. My hand reaches out and touches Jasper, blond hair like our mother instead of copper like our father. Both of us got the green eyes though, the same jaw and cleft.

I trace his name on the headstone…it's not Jasper, but I see him. I do.

I see him smile at me, that lazy, careless grin he inherited from Dad I guess, because I've got it too I've been told.

…

"_I met this girl today." He sounded so damn excited. I remember that. "She's got hair as black as ink, and blue, blue eyes, like the sky."_

"_You're in love again, Jass? What else is fucking new?" I scoffed, not even bothering to take my eyes off of the Xbox screen because Jasper and some pretty, new girl were nothing new._

"_No, Ed. This is different. This one's different. She's the one."_

"_Yeah," I snorted. "Whatever. Hey, pick up the other remote and let me school you, unless you're too chicken shit to-"_

"_Hey, Edward."_

_I dropped the remote and turned around quickly, because that was a girl's voice, but it wasn't Rosalie's. It was sweet and strong at the same time, not whiny and tired like our older sister._

_It was a girl. And she wasn't just pretty; she was beautiful. Her hair was so dark it was almost blue, and her blue eyes were so brilliant they looked like that glass you found in church windows; radiant. _

"_I'm Alice," she said, grinning at me while I sat there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. And then Jasper threw an arm around her shoulder, and she looked up at him like she was sure that the sun would rise and set in his eyes._

_She looked back at me. "Jass has been talking about you all day, so I figured I might as well meet my future brother-in-law."_

"_Brother-in-law?" I snickered. "Moving kind of fast there, aren't you? You don't know my brother."_

_Alice laughed, and so did Jasper._

"_I guess we are moving fast, but you know what, Edward?" she said, "Jasper and I are going to be together forever, so why waste time? So yeah, little brother, you and I will be bonding."_

_And she laughed again, but even though she was laughing at me, I couldn't be mad. Not when my brother already looked so happy. Not when she sounded so sure that they would be forever; that their forever would last and last._

"_Uhm…" I raked a hand through my hair. "So what should we bond over?"_

_She chuckled. "Let's see. What are you playing? Damn, I love that game! Move over, Edward." She bumped me with her hip. "Let me show you how this is done!" _

"_Uh…I don't think so. This is a guys' game."_

"_Yeah? You think so?" She picked up the remote and got comfy on the floor._

_When I looked over at my brother, he was giving me a shit-eating grin. "Told you she was the best thing ever."_

_And for the next few hours, Alice Brandon proceeded to beat the hell out of me…_

…_.._

My big brother and Alice. The only love story I've ever known - and what a fucking ending.

"We'll be fine," I tell them now, my palm pressed flat against Jasper's headstone, ignoring the moisture seeping from my eyes into my mouth. "We'll be fine. I'll take good care of her; I promise. Don't worry, okay? She's going to take these classes now, and she's smiling more, and her dance teacher is really talented and…so beautiful, Jasper. I wish I could talk to you about her…"

I snort to myself because I don't even know where that came from.

"Anyway, she's a bit upset right now. Mel, I mean, not her dance teacher. Even though I think her dance teacher might be upset too. Not at Mel, at me. I kind of acted like an asshole, but…whatever. I'm sure you guys don't want to hear about her; about that. And I'm sure that Mel will be ready to speak to you both next time we visit. In the meantime…"

In the meantime, what?

I pat the headstone with a callused hand full of dirt and paint, as if I'm patting my brother's shoulder.

"Love you guys," I murmur and then stand up and walk back to the truck.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm locked in my bathroom that night, performing my morning and evening ritual. The bottle is in my hand, fingers curled around the bend, tips tapping against cool glass. It's the last bottle I ever touched. The one I was drinking when I got the news. Now it's just a reminder; a warning.

Because every night it calls to me. Every night I bend my head to the dark god in the bottle and sit there, begging it not to take me, craving a fucking taste so badly it physically hurts because there's never anything I want more than a taste.

The thing is, as I sit there staring at the clear liquid sloshing inside the bottle, for the first time in a long time, it's not the taste of the white liquid in the bottle at the forefront. It's not an image of that bottle raised to my mouth that fills my mind the most.

It's dark hair…and dark eyes…honey skin…a beautiful grin…spinning…and swaying…

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**TRANSLATION:**

_**Que pasa, Nenita? – What's going on, Girl?**_

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**If you'd like to discuss this story, catch some teasers, or discuss any other stories you might be reading, you might want to check out 'Stories by Pattyrose' on fb. Link is on my profile page.**


	5. Chapter 5 Questions

**A/N: Oh my goodness, I want to thank all of you for your wonderful reviews and thoughts! I'm thoroughly enjoying them. I wasn't able to get back to all of you, but I'll keep trying! **

**I sort of forgot to give a tissue warning last chapter, and I apologize. It was a pretty heavy chapter, but I think we should be able to do without the tissues this chapter. **

**And I won't deny that Mel is acting pretty bratty right now, but keep in mind that the poor kid has lost both her parents, and she's at a very confusing age. Yes, both she and Edward need to learn how to deal with their grief, but maybe there's someone out there who can help them both with that. ;)**

**Once again, any phrases in Spanish are usually translated right in that sentence or in the following one to make it easier to follow. If you still don't understand, there's a translation at the bottom A/N. Either way, there are very few Spanish phrases anyway, so we should be okay. :)**

**Betad by my girl, Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Questions**

**BPOV**

Alicia Keys croons in the background as I leap across the room.

"Watch those jumps, Isabella! Steady those landings! And damn it, smile!"

My eyes snap shut for just a split second. When I open them back up, I paste a grin on my face, stand, pirouette and kick, pirouette and kick.

"Steady! Steady!" Suddenly, Eli's arms wrap around my hips. "Like this," he murmurs in my ear, his hands guiding my waist the way he wants it to move, pressing into my ribs, fingers digging into my bare skin and then trailing down to my thighs, pulling me against him...

I jerk away hard from him and walk to the stereo to switch it off. "I'm done for the night."

He's quiet, but I can feel his frustration echoing off the wall-to-wall mirrors.

"Really? You're done? Well, if that's how you're going to dance at that audition in a couple of weeks, guess what, Baby? You're so done."

Ouch. Yeah, that hurt, but instead of responding, I pull my hoodie over my head and snatch the keys to the studio off the bench in the corner.

"Do you want me to close up, or do you have your keys?"

"What the hell is your problem tonight, Bella?"

"_You_ are my problem!" I yell, rounding on him. "You had no right to come in here tonight and put your hands on me like that!"

"What? Did I ruin a potential hook-up for you? Really, _Nenita_, one of your student's parents?" he sneers.

"You're missing the damn point! _You_ have no right to touch me unless we're dancing, and even then-"

"A guy, who can't even pay for a fucking dance class for his kid, that's who you want to move on to next?" he snickers.

"Go to hell, Eli! He and I were discussing his niece's registration, and either way, it's none of your goddamn business!"

He moves in close to me and lifts a hand to my cheek, stroking it. I push it away angrily.

"It's my business because I care about you. I care about who touches you, _Isabella_."

He gazes at me through those black eyes of his, under perfectly waxed eyebrows. His jet black hair is interspersed with caramel toned highlights he has professionally touched up every four to six weeks. The bit he spikes up in front is all caramel. His clothes are expensive and cut to outline a tight, dancer's body in tight shirts and tight pants.

Once, I found him fascinating: the way he wears a bit of eyeliner under his eyes to darken them even more while adding an air of mystery, the way his nails are always perfectly manicured, not an un-groomed cuticle, not one unnecessary hair on his smooth body. It took me a while to see everything that all that outward beauty hid.

"You care who touches me, Eleazar? Really? You didn't seem to care very much when we were together," I remind him with a wry grin.

"You and I have two very different definitions for caring. That's why you broke up with me, but that doesn't mean I stopped caring. I just want what's best for you, Bellita, in all aspects of your life, personal and professional. That guy doesn't even have good credit. Who deals in cash nowadays?" he chuckles.

"How he pays is none of our business as long as he pays; you didn't have to be an asshole about it."

His features harden. "Fine. You know what? Let's drop the subject of _el maricon pelao_. We've got more important things to discuss than a broke bastard. You've been off your game for the past couple of weeks, and for you to stand a chance at getting this, you've gotta bring your A game Baby because guess what? That's what all the other try-outs are gonna bring. I'm talking classically trained try-outs from Juilliard and Alvin Ailey, not girls who taught themselves to dance," he mocks. "The only reason they even agreed to audition you was because I put in a good word for you."

I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes, dropping my head in anger and frustration.

"Now if you're not gonna put in some real effort, then just let me know because I'm not wasting my time or risking my rep on someone who doesn't really want this. So tell me, do you still want this?"

"Of course I want this! It's all I've ever wanted."

"Then damn it, act like it! Go put your bag down, and let's get back to it!"

With a long and heavy breath, I open my eyes again, angrily fling my bag to the corner, and return to the middle of the room.

OOOOOOOOOO

"_Que Maricon!_ What an asshole!" Angie hisses the next day when I tell her about Eli's performance in front of my new student's uncle.

She and I are splitting a sub and a brownie behind the counter while we take a half-hour break between classes. Then I've got to teach Competition Jazz, and she's teaching Intermediate Ballet.

"He better hope I don't see him anytime soon! I told you he'd pull some shit like that one of these days!" she growls, sticking her pointer finger in my face. "What did you do? You let Papi Chulo know that Eli's not your man, right?"

"Papi Chulo," or Hot Daddy, is her new name for Edward, Mel's uncle.

I smirk and put my sandwich down, giving her a sidelong glance. "What was I supposed to do? Just come out and say, 'by the way, this here ain't my man'?"

"Hell to the yes!"

"Pfft," I roll my eyes. "Besides, it's not like he gave me much of a chance to fit it into the convo. He and Eli traded a couple of verbal jabs, and then he was out. Threw a parting jab my way before he left too."

"What?" she snaps. "What did he say to you?" She narrows her eyes, her protective streak rearing its head.

I take a bite of my sandwich and chew it methodically before answering. "It's not what he said; it's...the way he looked at me when he said it. He gave me this pretty lewd grin before he left-"

"What's wrong with lewd grins?" she laughs. "They happen to be _mi especialidad_." She displays a lewd grin in illustration.

I roll my eyes at her sideways. "Yeah, you're good at them, I know. But it's the way he did it, like he was telling me fuck you."

"Again, sounds good to me!"

"Not like that," I scowl. "Like he was calling me out, calling me a whore or something."

"_Que?_ Well fuck him too then! _Pendejo, maricon_! Asshole! The fucking nerve! He don't know you to be trying to diss you like that!"

I chew on my brownie slowly, savoring every last crumb. I really shouldn't be eating this, but I'm feeling like shit today, and chocolate always makes me feel better.

"I don't know, Angie. Maybe it's written all over my face, and I don't even know it," I say with a hard chuckle. "Maybe I've got this big ole 'W' smack dab on my forehead" – I hold up three fingers in front of my forehead in illustration – "and it's visible to everyone except me."

Angie puts her sandwich down. "Stop it, Bella! Okay? You're not a whore. Look, I know Charlie and Sue raised you really strictly, but you gotta get that shit out of your head. What happened in your past doesn't make you-"

"Bella," Jake leans over the counter and grins widely at me. "I'm gonna borrow your studio for about ten minutes and take my guys in there to show 'em some head spins. Your room's got mirrors all around; it makes it easier to see."

"Sure, that's fine," I tell him. "Hey, Jake, you mind teaching the six-fifteen Jazz class today? Jessica called, and she sounds sick as hell. I was gonna take it over, but I've got a five-thirty tap, and Angie has a-"

"No problem. You know I got you, Bella," Jake grins again, sparkling white teeth shining past that silver lip ring. Then he shoves the rest of my brownie in his mouth, and when I squeal in protest, he rushes off laughing.

"Mm mm," Angie says, shaking her head at his retreating form. "That boy does have a great ass. Too bad Nineteen is a little too young for me. They need to be out of their teenage years before I hit that."

I snicker. "You sound like Becca and the new girl, Mel, with the moaning and leering at Jake."

Angie chuckles. "She's a pretty girl, that Mel. Papi Chulo's got his hands full."

"Yeah, she is," I smile. "And yeah, looks like she's got a bit of fire in her. Had her uncle on his toes last night while they were registering." I chew on my lip thoughtfully, smiling to myself when I remember the sweet way he looked at her, like he couldn't quite figure out how to handle her. The way his green eyes took her in. The way they took _me_ in…

"Bella?"

"What?"

Angie shakes her head and gathers up our garbage. "Man, you are in La La land. Shit, for a guy who turned out to be an asshole, he's sure taking up quite a bit of space in your head today."

I take a drink from my water bottle and then smack my lips together. "No, he's not. Come on, let's get to our classes."

OOOOOOOOOO

Becca and Mel are on time to Wednesday's Hip-Hop class. There's more giggling and whispering with Becca and a couple of other girls she seems to have made friends with, but once class begins, Mel is eager to learn. I do catch them checking out Jake's ass, but they don't bother him, so I let it go.

After class, Mel and Becca are both laughing and fooling around some more in the waiting area. I tug on a strand of her naturally blue-black hair while I rush my comp girls into their next class.

"Miss _Bella_!" she sings out.

After my comp class, Becca and the rest of the girls are gone, but Mel is still out there. As the last of the comp students trail out for the night and the studio empties, she sits there with her headphones in ears and her eyes closed, her head back, listening to her music.

I shake my head and walk up to Mel, taking a seat next to her before removing her headphones.

"Hey, Miss Bella!" she smiles.

"Hey, Mel. What's going on? Your uncle's late again?"

"He's just got….a few things to do sometimes. He'll be here soon," she shrugs.

"Oh. Well, do you want to come and stretch and practice with me again?"

"Yeah!" she grins.

So we end up in Studio One again. Since we've got this extra unexpected and unplanned one-on-one time together, I teach her a couple of steps she seemed to have some trouble with in Hip Hop class, since she did begin a couple of weeks late. By the time her cell phone starts playing Justin Timberlake's latest hit, she's pop, lock and dropping and two-stepping.

"My uncle's here. Guess I'll see you on Friday!"

I follow her out of the room, admittedly a bit eager to see her uncle and maybe clear up some stuff, but he isn't in the waiting area, and Mel's rushing to the door.

"Wait, wait! Where's your uncle?"

"He says he's waiting for me across the street in the truck. He's in a rush so goodbye, Miss Bella! Bye, Miss Angie!"

I stand by the door and cross my arms across my chest while I watch her cross the street and climb into an old, red Chevy truck. The truck performs a broken u-turn, but right before it speeds away, its driver and I make eye contact.

Edward holds my gaze for about two seconds with no expression of recognition or greeting before moving his eyes front and center again.

Well fuck you too then, Mr. Cullen.

OOOOOOOOOO

This continues for the next couple of weeks.

Mel comes to class Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and on each and every day, her Uncle Edward is about an hour and a half late to pick her up. What's more, he never comes into the studio; rather he texts her and tells her he's outside. I walk her to the door and then watch them drive away. Sometimes he looks my way as they zoom by; sometimes he doesn't.

Mel and I spend those evenings in Studio One dancing and talking and laughing. She's an intriguing kid - high on the sarcasm with eye rolls to the sky galore. She puts on this cool as a cat act, the same one all the young, teenage girls who come to the studio seem to put on, but there's an extra layer to hers; this…sadness about her, in her eyes, in the deep sighs she sometimes takes out of nowhere.

She's also got all this pent up energy. It shows in the way she dances, like she's trying to release something, get something out there, but doesn't know quite how to go about it. So on those evenings when it's just the both of us, I do my best to teach her how it's done; how to express yourself when words fail you. She won't tell me what those words are, but I can only imagine…

Then at other times, she's just your typical twelve-almost-thirteen year old (as she keeps reminding me) pre-teen. She loves ice-cream, she loves Sponge Bob, and she loves One Direction. She hates Justin Bieber. Math is her least favorite subject. She enjoys jazz and tap, but loves Hip Hop best.

What exactly happened to her parents? Why has she been left to the care of a man who can't seem to pick her up on time to save his life? These are things I wonder pretty often, though it's none of my business. I don't dare ask, and like I said, she hasn't volunteered the info.

And since her uncle apparently never plans to step foot in the studio again, I won't very well be finding out from that source.

"What time do you do your homework on the days when you come to dance?" I ask her one night.

"I get some done at home before I come, and then I finish it while I eat something after Uncle Ed picks me up."

"You eat that late?"

She shrugs. "No big deal. I have a bowl of cereal, or he picks me up a burger or something."

"Does he work late?" I ask, not wanting to pry, but come on.

"Sometimes…"

"So he's working right now?"

"No…not really…" - she says vaguely - "he's just got…stuff to do."

OOOOOOOOOO

With my audition getting closer, Eli comes over to practice more often. Sometimes he gets here before Mel gets picked up, sometimes after. On the days when Mel is still with me, I make him wait until she's picked up before he and I start our work. I can tell this pisses him off, but fuck him.

"What the hell's going on?" Eli says one night after Mel's been picked up. "You picking up babysitting on the side?"

I roll my eyes ala Mel and ignore him, spinning around and around.

He stops me mid-spin and holds me up so that I don't lose my balance. "Seriously, what the hell is that all about?"

I wriggle out of his hold. "Her uncle's late to pick her up sometimes, that's all," I shrug.

More like all the time, but I don't say that.

"So you babysit her?"

"She's almost thirteen. It's not exactly baby-sitting."

He stares at me. "I hope you're charging him extra on the nights when he picks her up late. This is a dance school, not a child care service."

"Eli, do you remember when we bought this place, you agreed to be a silent partner? _Silent_. You told me yourself that you were too busy to help me run the place, so don't try now to tell me how to run it. Besides, I've been doing more than fine on my own. You get a nice cut every month, don't you?"

His nostrils flare, and he opens his mouth, but then closes it back up.

"Just get out there," he finally scowls, jerking his chin to the middle of the dance floor, "and do your thing."

OOOOOOOOOO

The Friday before my audition, Mel, Angie and I are sitting by the counter having dinner because seriously, this kid shouldn't wait 'til past nine for dinner and then have a bowl of cereal or a crappy burger. So I've ordered us food from the Spanish restaurant down the block: white rice, pink beans and steak. It's not as good as my Grandma's in Puerto Rico used to be, but it's decent.

Or maybe more than decent because Mel is scarfing it down like she hasn't seen a real meal in years.

"This is so good," she says. "My aunt makes beans sometimes, but they're not as tasty as these."

"It's the Latin spices. Everything tastes better with some Latin spice in it," Angie assures her proudly, dancing a bit of Salsa in her seat.

I roll my eyes, but at this point, what I'm really wondering is what the hell is going on here. I mean, it's not like Mel is any trouble. If anything, Angie and I enjoy her company, but that's not the point. What if Angie and I have an emergency? What if we can't stay open late one night to accommodate her irresponsible uncle? Will the kid have to wait outside by herself until her uncle is done "taking care of a few things" and comes to pick her up? Of course, I'd never leave Mel or any of my dance kids out on the street, but again, not the point. Right now for example, I really should be practicing, but like I said, Mel shouldn't eat so late.

So when Uncle Edward texts Mel and tells her he's outside, I figure it's time I address these issues.

"Aw man! I'm not done!" she says, shoving a huge forkful in her mouth.

"Relax, _Princesa_. Don't choke on them beans." I gently ease down her fork. "Let me go tell your uncle that you're eating and you'll be out in a few, okay?"

"Thanks, Miss Bella!" she grins around a mouthful of beans and rice.

Angie walks with me to the door.

"You finally gonna make your move with Papi Chulo?" she whisper-grins.

"No!" I whisper back. "I'm going to make sure that he knows what time this studio closes and that he can't keep picking up Mel so late. And that the kid needs a decent meal once in a while!"

"Okay, and while you're at it, make sure he gets an eyeful of those _tetas_ and that _culo_."

I scowl at her. "Just keep Mel in here for a few minutes. I don't want her to think that she's a bother to us. He just needs to be a bit more responsible with this kid."

"Alright, Bellita, but don't go off on the fuck-hot contractor before you've gotten a chance to try out his tools, if ya know what I mean," she winks.

I ignore her and make to open the door, but she suddenly tackles me, and her hands fly to my tits, adjusting my top so that my boobs pop out a bit from over the leotard and the top. Then she yanks up the back of my leotard, exposing my ass cheeks.

"What the hell? What are you doing?" I shriek.

"Seriously, either you arrange a date with Papi Chulo, or I _will_ set you up with someone else! You need to get laid, Bella; I am not joking!" she hisses.

I glare at her while I readjust my leotard. "You're friggin' nuts, you know that?"

She waves me off and stretches out an arm, pointing in Edward's direction.

"Just go get yourself a date with that fine-ass man!"

Mel's uncle is leaning into the side of his truck, supporting his arms on the sides while a cigarette dangles from between two fingers. As I approach, I see him take a long, potent drag and then return his arm over the side of the truck. He hangs his head…looking so woefully lost in thought that I've suddenly got an almost overwhelming urge to come up behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tightly; breathe him in. I fleetingly wonder what his reaction would be if I did just that. Would he twist his body out of my hold? Or would he circle around in my arms, wrap his big, strong hands around my hips, press his callused fingers against my skin and move and sway to the erratic beat dancing in my heart?

I quickly shake that crazy vision out of my head.

Either way, he's so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn't seem to see me coming at all because when he takes another drag and looks up and sees me, he flips around quickly, looking extremely surprised.

"Hey…Edward, was it?"

I miserably regret the stupid act as soon as it's out because of course I remember his name. It's been at the forefront of my mind, along with the image of him, every night before bed for the past couple of weeks.

But I've already said it, and I can't take it back. My heart trips over itself because damn it, he's even finer than those nightly images that have been stuck in my head. Once again, his hair is a mess of paint and spackle and stuff; his face is full of dirt, but the dirt makes those green eyes stand out even more, and that jaw line…Fuck me that jaw line…was it that straight and angular last time I saw him in the studio?

Right now, it's as tightly clenched as my thighs are.

He blows out some smoke just to the side of me.

"Hey…_Miss_ Bella, was it?" he smirks in the darkness. I'm pretty sure I hear sarcasm in his tone.

"Mel's in the middle of eating dinner, so I told her to finish, and I'd let you know."

He just stares at me, and for a second, it looks like he might say something, but then he simply nods. No "Thanks for feeding my niece," no "Thanks for keeping her over an hour past closing time for days now." Nothing, nada, zilch, but a head nod.

"Yeah, 'cuz she mentioned she's just had burgers and cereal lately, so I figured…"

Staring, he takes one more long drag, squinting one of his eyes, and then flicks the cigarette away with his thumb and index finger. I smell smoke and sweat and two-by-fours all mixed together.

"So…how's everything?" I ask.

Alright, so Angie might have a bit of a point. I may not be as much of a badass as I sometimes believe myself to be.

"Everything's good," he nods. His eyes stray from my face, dropping to my chest, my thighs, my legs; but not in the asshole way he did right before leaving the other night. His gaze makes me tingle absolutely everywhere.

Then he meet's my eyes again.

After a pause he asks, "How about you?"

"Not too bad. I'm enjoying the extended summer. It's still pretty warm for late September, isn't it?"

Jesus, Bella, the weather? The fucking _weather_?

"Yeah, it is. Though working outside all day, I wouldn't mind if it cooled down a bit."

I chuckle quietly. "My dad says the same thing."

He nods.

"Uhm…about the other night…I wanted to apologize-"

"Nothing to apologize for," he says coolly, disconcerting me with the way his green eyes take me in so intensely as if he sees right through me. I hope he doesn't. I seriously hope he doesn't. I suddenly feel nauseous and can't speak.

Edward crosses his arms in front of himself, bulging muscles and veins obviously built through labor. I'm at eye level with his toned chest and have to fight an abrupt urge to reach out and touch.

He sighs. "Tuition's not due yet, is it?"

"What? No, no," I assure him, blinking up to meet his eyes again. "Still got a couple of weeks."

"Okay, good."

He adjusts his long legs and suddenly the space between them widens, and for a second, I think he's inviting me to huddle in there while we discuss whatever it is I came out to discuss with him. He's such a strong presence that I feel petite in front of him, which at a quarter of an inch off five foot seven, I'm really not, especially in these tap shoes. His jeans and t-shirt are just as full of dirt and paint and spackle as he is. His movement saturates the air with his scent. No, it's not cologne like Eli wears every single day of his life; it's the scent of man and hard work. I start feeling almost naked in my black leotard, though I've got on my cut-off _Flashdance_ off the shoulder sweatshirt and legwarmers ala Jennifer Beals in one of my favorite movies ever.

Yet the way his eyes rake over me…I swear he's got x-ray vision right through my skin. I can almost _feel_ his gaze.

"I…uh…actually wanted to speak with you about Mel's pick-up time."

He stares blankly.

"You are aware that her class ends at seven, right?"

He nods slowly, frowning and shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"Well, the studio usually closes at eight or so, depending on the night."

"Okay," he says slowly.

Seriously, he's going to make me spell it out?

"What I'm saying is that Mel should really be getting picked up before studio closing time."

He narrows his eyes, and my heart pounds in my chest. He's seeing me. He sees what a phony I am, trying to act all proper, all on the up and up when deep inside I'm…

Please don't see what's deep inside. Please, please, please…

"From what Mel's told me, you guys stay open late anyway. She says you dance and practice with her. I was under the impression it was okay..."

"Yes, we're usually open late anyway, cleaning up and taking care of stuff, but officially we're closed. I…she's a great kid, but you understand that I can't be responsible for her beyond her class time, don't you?" I ask carefully, stopping before I say that she needs to be home early to finish her homework and have some real food. I force myself to hold his narrowed gaze despite how my eyes feel like they're crossing.

He uncrosses his arms and kneads the palm of his hand hard under his jaw. I can see the scruff that palm is grazing and can almost feel it against my own skin, on my back…tickling my neck…

My hands clench at my sides as I try to remain focused.

"I'm…sorry…I…" he says, his expression softening. All of a sudden, he looks so vulnerable, so confused, so…lost, like Mel.

And I wait. I anxiously wait to hear what he's going to tell me because it looks like he may just be getting ready to say something life-changing here.

But just as quickly as it was all there, it's all suddenly gone. His chiseled face hardens, making him look like a beautiful, yet impenetrable statue. His gaze moves beyond me, over my head, and he sneers before looking down at me again.

"I apologize. I wasn't aware I was creating such a hardship."

"No, no, no. That's not what I'm-"

"Melody will be picked up right after class from now on. I'll make sure of it."

And without another word, he walks over to the driver's side and opens the car door, sitting back in the driver's seat.

I think I might be staring at him with my mouth hanging open, and then Mel is suddenly at the passenger side door. She opens it and climbs in, yet he continues glaring straight ahead at the windshield.

Mel dips her head, peeking at me through the open window.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Miss Bella. It was slammin'."

"Uhm…you're welcome, Princesa."

And without another glance my way, Mel's uncle turns on the car and drives away.

Well, shit.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_**Nenita**_** – Girl**

_**El Maricon pelao**_** – the broke bastard**

_**Que maricon**_** – what an asshole**

_**Mi especialidad**_** – my specialty**

_**Que?**_** – What?**

_**Pendejo**_** – idiot**

_**Maricon **_**– asshole**

_**Princesa**_** – Princess**

_**Tetas and culo**_** – tits and ass**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	6. Chapter 6 - For Mel

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your lovely thoughts and reviews, Guys. I'm thoroughly enjoying them!**

**I kinda goofed in the last chapter, but we can talk about it at the end. :)**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 6 – For Mel**

**EPOV**

It takes a few days to get her completely out of my head. But I do. I've got too much other shit going on in there. Besides, she was nothing more than a pretty face - with a great ass.

It ends up working out well, anyway. Seems the pretty dancer stays open late after classes end for the night. Mel's been having a good time, hanging out with her, getting extra dance lessons, and I attend to my meetings without having to leave early. Afterwards, when I pick up Mel, I wait for her outside cuz I don't want to run into Bella's man again. Beating the shit out of him would've been a bad idea; I saw that really clearly once my head cleared up. I don't even want to imagine the trouble it would cause if I ever got myself arrested. Mel's grandparents would jump all over that.

So Mel goes to class, hangs out with the pretty dancer afterwards, and then comes home a lot happier than I've seen her in a while. I go to my meetings and wait for Mel outside the Studio afterwards.

Win-win for all.

Until the pretty dancer corners me right by my truck about two weeks into this convenient arrangement, and I look up, and holy hell, I realize how much I've been lying to myself for the past couple of weeks. Fucking gorgeous is what she is, from the top of her dark head of wavy hair to the sexy as hell legs bared from hips to thighs - and fucking leg warmers the rest of the way down.

"Edward…was it?" she asks, so either she can't remember my name, or she wants to play like she doesn't.

Then her mouth keeps moving, this really great mouth: red, plump lips. You see the Latin in her in the shape of her mouth, but I'm only catching about every other word because she's wearing what basically amounts to a swimsuit in the middle of the street, and I'm supposed to know what she's _saying_?

It's some sort of small talk; she mentions the weather, and I think I mention tuition just to say something, and then she starts throwing around different times…seven, eight, eight-thirty, I don't know.

Then I try to adjust my legs to give my groin some breathing room cuz it's getting really fucking tight in there, and realize how perfectly she'd fit nestled in between my legs right now – or me between her legs would be even better. Her straddling me in that outfit, yeah, that'd be great. Bent over the kitchen table on a weekend when Mel's at her grandparents, yeah, her ass looking tight and smooth, like caramel. No, not caramel. Honey. Yeah, honey skin. Probably tastes like honey too. She smells sweet. She'd taste sweet everywhere, too; I can tell.

Needless to say, all these thoughts aren't helping the situation in my groin, or my ability to focus on what she's saying.

"…_you understand that I can't be responsible for her beyond her class time, don't you?"_

This is what she says, but at the same time, there's this gentleness in her tone, this expression of warmth despite the fact that she's basically telling me that I'm being an irresponsible asshole, and suddenly I feel it all at the forefront, the words that'll explain to her why I'm always late to pick up Mel, why I have no idea what I'm doing, why I need someone to fucking tell me how the hell to do this.

And then her boyfriend rounds the corner. He's on his cell phone in deep conversation, so he doesn't look up or else he'd see his girl standing out in the street with me in what amounts to her underwear, and I'd probably have to remind myself again why I can't beat the shit out of him or anyone.

But what it does remind me of now is that she's just a girl. A fucking _beautiful_ girl…but a girl with a man. And I'm a guy responsible for a kid and living paycheck to paycheck, with a fucking monkey on my back that I will _never_ be rid of. Who in their right fucking mind would want all that?

OOOOOOOOOO

That Saturday, my sister Rose and her kids come over for a while.

"How's Mel doing at those dance classes you signed her up for?" Rose asks me when I get home. She's bouncing little Leah, her eighteen-month old, on one knee and at the same time calling out warnings to Seth, her hyper four-year old, while Rachel, her six year old sits on the floor of my apartment playing with a couple of dolls.

Three fucking kids under the age of six and a useless, fucking husband, who's never around. No wonder Rose looks like she hasn't slept in years.

"She's doing well, I guess," I shrug, shoveling the food she made for us into my mouth.

"You _guess_? Haven't you asked her?"

"Yeah, I've asked her. She said she's doing well. Did she eat?"

Leah starts whining. Rose bounces her faster.

"A little bit. She said it tasted bland, needed more spices or something. So what exactly does she like about it?"

"Well, it's a dance class, so I assume she likes the _dancing_," I say.

"You assume, but you haven't asked her? Seth, take off Uncle Edward's dirty boots. Have you asked her if it's the dancing, or the meeting new kids, or if it's healing for her? Does it make her feel better about-"

"Jesus Christ, Rosalie. Seth, Buddy, stop throwing my boots around. They're the only ones Uncle Ed has right now. Rose, she likes going to dance. I haven't commissioned a major study into why."

Rose sighs. Leah starts whimpering. I stuff another forkful into my mouth.

"Have you spoken to her dance teacher?"

"About what?" I ask quickly, narrowing my eyes.

"About Mel! How does she fit in? Is she getting along with the other kids?"

"Mel always gets along with other kids."

"That was before. How many friends do you see her with now? She's having a hard time adjusting."

"She's having a hard time adjusting," I say, glaring down at my plateful of shells, "because she lost her parents, and my having a long, pointless talk with her _dance teacher_ won't change that."

Leah is full out crying now. Rose bounces her higher and higher so that the kid's sobs sound all discombobulated. I set my fork down and reach my hands out.

"Gimme." Rose hands her over. "Come here, Sweetie. Uncle Ed's got something for you." I reach down on my belt and unclip my Leatherman, holding it up for Leah's inspection. Her sobs slowly dwindle as she watches the shiny, silver tool glint and gleam.

"Careful, Edward!"

"I'm not going to give it to her, Rose," I smirk.

"Well, did you look up the school's info and rep before you went ahead and registered Mel?"

"No, Rose," I hiss. "I didn't look up the damn school's rep or info."

"You should've. That's what a responsible parent does. You research everything before putting your kid in something. I did the research because I knew you wouldn't. Thank God it's got a good rep since you apparently couldn't be bothered-"

"I _fucking_" – I mouth the word '_fucking'_ so the kids don't hear – "work my ass off from sun-up to sundown six days a week, and then I've got my meetings three days a week. When the hell am I supposed to do research on some goddamn dance school? Besides, it's been two weeks, and she's still alive, so I guess it's not a meth lab in disguise."

Seth runs over to us. "Uncle Edward, let me see your pichuh there!" he says, tapping my back.

"Sure, Buddy," I grin softly, pushing my chair back so that I can reach down with one hand and remove my shirt.

Rose continues her tirade. "That wasn't funny, Edward."

"It wasn't meant to be funny," I snort, hunched over for Seth's inspection while his fingers trace a line from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and then down to the middle of my back. Leah stretches over me to see what Seth's doing.

"I want one."

"No, Seth," Rose answers. "Those are ugly and dangerous and lead to blood poisoning."

"How?"

She ignores his question. "Anyway, like I said, I checked it out online. The owner's name is Isabella Swan. I googled her and-"

"You googled her?"

"Yes, I googled her. I couldn't find where she completed her dance training, but she's had a couple of parts in Off-Broadway productions, and she got pretty good reviews, so I suppose she's qualified."

"I can't believe you googled her," I say, shaking my head while Seth traces the cross now, fingers on my spine. "That's pretty friggin'…intrusive, don't you think?"

"When you're a parent, these are the things you have to do."

"You have to google dance teachers?" I chuckle. Behind me, Seth chuckles too though I'm not sure he even knows what we're talking about.

Rose shakes her head. "Like I said, you're not funny, and all you're proving, Edward, is how little you know about parenting, and how unprepared you are for all of this."

I roll my eyes. "You know what, Rose?" I hiss. "Ah damn."

I hand her kid back over because my body's vibrating right about now, and when she takes little Leah from me, I stand up and put my shirt back on, take a few steps away, rake both hands through my hair and just hold on tight because there's the craving...

"Hey, Aunt Rose." Mel comes out of her bedroom, and all three kids immediately run to her.

"Hey, Sweetie." Rose is all smiles, her irritation with me apparently on the backburner – for now.

OOOOOOOOOO

Rose cleans up the dishes, cleans the kitchen, and straightens up my small living room. She's the caretaker; has been for all our lives.

She's still pissed too, but she won't show it around Mel. She showers her with affection and cheeriness, asks her all the questions I guess I was supposed to have asked about her new dance school.

"Mel, do you want to come home with me tonight?" Rose asks while she gathers her kids and their stuff up. "We can go to the park tomorrow, and when the kids nap, we can talk, and I can do your nails."

"No thanks, Aunt Rose, maybe next time."

I see the way Rose's forced smile falters, and for a second, I feel bad for her. As much of a pain in the ass as she is, she really loves Mel.

But Mel doesn't want her.

Mel doesn't want me.

Mel wants her mother and father. Instead what she has is a tired, overwhelmed aunt, a tired, drunk uncle, and a set of grandparents who'd take her in a heartbeat to force her into the cold, over privileged life her mother did her best to leave behind.

Poor damn kid.

OOOOOOOOOO

Downstairs, I help buckle Leah into her car seat and quietly promise Seth I'll get him a Nerf gun soon.

"Hey Rose, I need a favor…"

"What is it?" she asks warily, probably thinking that it's money like I don't know that with three kids, a mortgage, and a piece of shit for a husband she doesn't have much to spare.

"Mel's dance class…it ends at seven on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and those happen to be the days when I've got my AA meetings. I've been leaving a bit early to pick her up, but I'm still getting to the studio kind of late. I know you're pretty far, but everyone else I know works, and I was wondering…"

She watches me carefully and then sighs. "Edward, if I could pick her up for you, I would. I don't want you missing your meetings. You're responsible for our niece now, Ed, you _can't_ start drinking again."

"I know that, Rose," I say tightly.

"You _can't_, Edward."

"I know that!" I say more vehemently.

She holds my gaze and then snorts. "I still don't understand why they left her to you."

"Goodbye, Rose." I turn around and walk back into my building.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm out in the hallway having a smoke by the window when the door across the hall opens and out walks Heidi.

Al and Jasper's accident forced me into soberness which left my head spinning in a completely different way. Not only were Jasper and Alice gone, but a few days later, their last will and testament left their only daughter to me. Rose was shocked, I was dumbfounded, and Alice's parents were infuriated.

I suppose part of the reason I got her was because Mel had my heart from the second she was born, but those first couple of months were…_hell_, dealing with so much shit and not being able to find comfort in the bottom of a bottle. I mean, it'd been easy to love her before because at the end of the day, I wasn't responsible for her. But now I had to figure out how the hell to be a guardian to a twelve-year old, how to hold down a job, and how to stay away from the life I used to lead.

And one day, Heidi moved into the building.

It was always just sex. Mel went to her grandparents for the once a month weekend visit we'd agreed to in court, and Heidi and I ended up in her bed.

I told her everything; that I was a drunk, that my brother and his wife had been hit by a drunk driver, and that now I was responsible for their daughter. I didn't tell her because I trusted her or because I felt any closeness to her, but because I wanted one thing to be clear: this was just sex.

"I'm not looking for a relationship, just some release. That's all I want and it's all I need."

I made sure I was clear because I didn't have time for miscommunication or misunderstandings. I was in the beginning stages of a sobriety program, and even if I'd wanted one, a relationship was impossible. I had a kid now, and a job with which Jasper's best friend had entrusted me for the sake of his friendship with Jasper. I had AA meetings to attend to make sure I didn't fuck the rest up. That's all I had time for.

And she agreed. She wrapped her legs around me and agreed.

Mel hated her on sight. And then after a while…well, I may have respected her more if she'd just stopped being such a hypocrite when it came to Mel.

But now she walks out of her apartment, long, blonde hair swinging behind her. Her face lights up while her heavily made-up eyes make a not-so-subtle trip over my body.

"Edward," she grins, "what are you doing, tonight, Baby?"

I lean against the wall, crossing my feet, hand in pocket, and take a long drag. "Watching TV with Mel. How 'bout you?"

"I've got some girlfriends waiting for me in the city…but I can always change my plans if you'd like to do something else…"

I stare at her for two seconds and then move my gaze beyond her, tipping my head up and exhaling the smoke.

She sighs. "Well…if you change your mind…you'll _always_ have my number, Edward." When she moves past me, the air is saturated with a heavily sweet scent that burns my nose.

Another scent suddenly invades my memory. Honey. Pure and simple honey.

I stomp the cigarette out under my boot. "Hey, Heidi, what time do you usually get off work?"

The click-clack of her heels halt. She quickly backtracks to me.

"I rent my booth at the nail salon, so I can pretty much make up my own schedule. Why? What do you have in mind?" she asks excitedly.

"Look, I know you and I…well things have been…awkward lately and I apologize for that, but…I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

"Oh. Well, sure," she shrugs. "I'll try. What is it?"

I tell her about Mel's dance class, and then I tell her that I just need someone to pick her up and bring her back to the apartment, so I can go to my AA meetings in peace. She doesn't need to babysit. I just don't want her walking around by herself after dark.

"Sure, Baby," she agrees with an easy smile. "I usually leave the nail salon at six, so I can definitely pick her up by seven." She reaches up and strokes my face with one finger, her long, red nail scouring me from cheek to jaw to cheek. "I'd love to do this for you…and for Mel, of course."

I offer her a half smile, nodding, knowing I'm getting myself into deep shit, and then turn and walk back towards my apartment, pausing at the door.

"For Mel," I echo quietly…remembering…

_oooooooooo_

_She was blond; I think. I'm pretty sure. _

_Honestly, I can't really remember too well. I think she was blond. _

_It was Friday night, and I'd met her at the local bar down the block from the apartment where I lived with Jasper and Rose. Sam and I had been hanging out a bit there on weekends, just to fuck around, and I guess the girl and I stumbled back to my place afterwards._

_So we're in bed, and I'm pounding into her, and the sudden bang on the door scared the shit out of me, almost making me blow my load right then and there. _

"_Go away, Rose, I swear I'm using protection!" I laughed. _

_I think I remember the blond under me giggling._

"_It's not Rose, little bro. Open up!"_

"_Jasper, I'm in the middle of something here!" I called out, ramming faster into the blond (I think), kind of entranced by the way her tits bounced all over the place. But then I had to close my eyes because between her bouncing tits and my throbbing brain, it started making me nauseous._

_More banging on the door. "Edward, open up!"_

"_Fuck." I climbed off of the blond and threw on my underwear before opening the door. When I opened, Jasper was leaning against the wall, waiting. His eyes moved beyond me, and then back._

"_You went to school today?"_

_I raked a hand through my hair. "Yeah."_

"_You sure?"_

"_Yeah, yeah. I'm sure."_

"_You drunk?"_

"_Maybe," I chuckled._

_He shook his head and moved past me into my room. "Alright, Sweetheart, get your clothes on and get." _

"_Yo man, we weren't done!" I complained._

"_You know my brother here isn't even seventeen yet, right?"_

_She must've been surprised; I can't really remember her face, but I remember her saying over and over, "He said he was twenty-one!"And I remember laughing and laughing._

"_Well, he's not, so I think you should leave."_

_After that, the next thing I recall is Jasper shoving a huge mug of strong, black coffee in my face, forcing me to take these huge swallows. He's saying things, but in my memory, I can only see his mouth moving._

"_You listening to me now?"_

"_What?"_

"_I said don't start with this shit, Edward. This is like the third time this month. Getting plastered is dangerous territory for us, Bro, with Dad's history. You know this."_

"_Dad was an asshole," I chuckle._

"_Yeah, he was," Jasper agreed after a beat. "He was a drunk asshole who didn't take his role as our dad seriously, so good-bye and good riddance when he left and same thing for Mom when she left. You, Rose and I just got each other now, and it's my job to look after you. So keep away from that shit, you understand? I said, do you understand?" _

"_Yeah, yeah, alright."_

_Then he got up and walked to the garbage bin, peeked in, and walked back to me._

_Out of nowhere, he popped open my shorts and looked down into them._

"_What the fuck?" I laughed, pushing him away._

"_Just making sure you covered that shit before screwing that chick. Dude, I know you're drunk, but you can take that thing off now," he snickered._

_After I'd done just that, he signaled for me to come sit down again. "Now listen to me. You listening? Cuz what I've got to tell you is pretty damn important. So you listening?" He tapped my head. "That head cleared up a bit?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, it's clear! What is it?"_

_The grin. The grin I remember clearly – as clear as if it had just taken place yesterday. _

"_It's my turn to be a dad." _

_I was sure I was so wasted I was hearing things. "What? You better be fucking kidding me." _

"_Why?" he chuckled._

_I opened my eyes wide, trying to keep the room from spinning so I could focus. His green eyes were wild, thrilled and full of a light I'd never seen in them._

"_A baby, Jasper? A goddamn baby?"_

"_Well, yeah, a baby," he snorted. "What else would Alice be pregnant with?"_

_I stared at him, shaking my head before dropping it into my hands. "Weren't you just checking me to make sure I covered my cock before sticking it inside some random chick?" _

"_First of all, Alice isn't a random chick. She's the girl I love, so watch your mouth," he said solemnly, "And I sure as hell didn't meet her in a drunken haze in the middle of some cheap hole-in-the-wall bar," he smirked. _

_I nodded warily. He laughed. "This is great news, Ed! You're gonna be an uncle!"_

"_Do Alice's parents know?"_

_He smirked. "Yeah, we told them tonight. Needless to say, they weren't too thrilled, but they're more upset at the embarrassment," he spat, "that this is going to cause with their friends. We promised them that Al's gonna finish school, and I told them I plan to support her and the baby one hundred percent, but it doesn't change anything. They're embarrassed. Ashamed. They threw her out."_

"_What?"_

_He laughed. "It's okay! She's in the living room," he said, jerking his chin in the direction of our living room. "She's going to be staying here until we can find a place of our own."_

"_You're moving out?"_

"_I've got to, little bro," he grinned. "I'm gonna be a dad now. I've got to make a home for the mother of my kid. Time to take responsibility," he snorted, but even as drunk as I still was, I could hear the pride and commitment in his tone. _

"_You gonna leave me here alone with Rose?"_

"_Rose isn't so bad, Ed. She tries her best. Cut her some slack. It shouldn't be her job to take care of us; she's only a handful of years older than you, and only a couple of years older than me."_

"_Yeah, whatever. But…but how the hell are you gonna take care of you, Al and a baby now?"_

"_I'll get another job," he shrugged easily. "You know my friend, Emmett? He's in construction. Says they're always looking for hard workers who know what they're doing. You know you and I have always been good with our hands, Ed. Anyway, between that and my job at the restaurant, we'll be alright."_

_I just kept shaking my head. "You're fucking nuts. You're gonna work two jobs for a girl…and a baby?" I scowled. "I mean, yeah, Al's cool but…you think she's worth it?"_

_Jasper held my gaze calmly, not a trace of doubt anywhere in his expression. "I don't think she's worth it, Ed. I know she is. I know they both are."_

_But I couldn't stop shaking my head. He laughed again, patting my shoulder. "S'alright, you're still a kid. You'll understand someday."_

"_I'm only a year younger than the girl you just knocked up," I reminded him._

"_You're right," he agreed. "And someday, you'll meet someone, Ed. And I don't mean in some cheap, run-down bar. You'll completely lose your head over her and do shit you never thought you'd do for her. __**Everything**__ will be for her."_

"_I don't know," I smirked doubtfully, hanging my head cuz yeah, I was pissed off. I mean, I liked Alice a hell of a lot, but now Jasper was leaving, and I'd be stuck with Rose…_

_And as always, it was as if Jasper could sense my mood._

"_Well, I do know. That's what's in your future, little Bro, and that's what's in mine. We're not going to have the fucked up type of relationship Mom and Dad had. We're going to find us good women, you and I. Women that make us better men. I already found mine, and when you're a man, a real man, you'll find yours. So don't be pissed off, Ed. Just because I won't be living here anymore doesn't mean I won't still be looking out for you." He ruffled my hair and I pushed him away, making him chuckle. "You're my little Bro; no matter where I am, I'll always look out for you."_

_And he did. _

'_Til the very end. _

_OOOOOOOOOO_

I open the door and walk into Mel's and my small apartment.

She's sprawled on the sofa, her eyes glued to the screen. "You ready to watch the movie, Uncle Ed?"

I hate the movie she wants to watch, but for her, I'll watch it.

For Mel, I'll hold that damn bottle hidden under the bathroom cabinet every night and say a prayer that I'll never fall to its mercy again.

For Mel, I'll wake up at the crack of dawn and break my back every day, come home with dirt and concrete and wood under my fingernails.

For Mel, I'll go to those AA meetings as often as I have to.

For Mel, I'll ask Heidi for a favor even though I know I'll regret it.

For Mel, I'll keep looking at _her…_at Bella, even though I know I can never have someone like her.

So I guess Jasper was halfway right. As for the other half…

I snort and sit next to Mel, knowing this is as much as I'll ever have.

She puts her head on my shoulder.

And all through the movie, it's that beautiful, honey-toned face that I see…

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**So I kinda goofed up on my Spanish translations last chapter.**

**In Spanish, "Maricon" is actually a derogatory term for gay; it doesn't literally mean "Asshole," as I'd translated it. But, when used in everyday conversation and thrown around as an insult, it can generally mean simply "asshole." It's like when you call someone "Bastard." You're usually not claiming that their paternity is in question. Anyway, I apologize for any confusion. :) **

**Song that kept going through my head this chapter:**

_**One Last Breath**_** by Creed. :) **

**See you on Thursday!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to "Stories by PattyRose" is on my profile page.**


	7. Chapter 7 Mel's Ride

**A/N: ****The FicSisters have a new blog where they talk and rec some great stories! As part of one of their features, they've done me the honor of allowing me to rec Spin & Sway. :)**

**The blog is called The International House of Fanfic, and can be found at _triple w dot ficsisters dot com_.**

********There's a chapter and pic teaser for an upcoming S&S chapter if you want to check it out!****

**And I forgot to mention Love Potions Brewer last chapter, for the help she's been giving me with what kind of tools Constructionward would carry around with him. Thanks, Hon. 3**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Mel's Ride**

**BPOV**

It's a closed audition: by invitation only. I arrive at the riverfront warehouse on the Lower East Side at eight in the morning, though I won't go on until noon. Eli comes with me as my rep because he's the one who got me this audition. We use one of the old warehouse rooms to practice. Right before my turn, he takes me aside and assures me I'm ready, that I've got this; that it's my turn to shine.

Holding my portfolio full of shots and the few, small parts I've managed to snag, I hand it off to the judging panel and proceed to dance my ass off for them; perfecting every jump, every spin, every turn. I think I see awe and amazement in their hidden expressions as I walk off the stage.

"You did great!" Eli says backstage while I pant and try to regulate my racing heart. My head spins with excitement and mega doses of adrenaline - so much adrenaline I barely know what to do with myself. My body quivers with it.

"You got it, Baby. I know it! You got it!"

"Thanks, Eli." I'm breathing hard, shaking out my arms and legs out turning around in a semi-circle while my entire frame shivers like I'm buzzed on something.

Eli grabs me and turns me to face him. "Hey, look at you. You're _so…_agitated. I haven't seen you like this in a while." He licks his lips. "Come on, Baby; let's go work it off the way we used to. I saw Carmen and Felix around earlier…"

All the adrenaline, the excitement and the frenzy completely disappear.

"Carmen and Felix are here? You didn't tell me they'd be here."

"Did you really think Felix wouldn't get Carmen an invite to this? Just because you don't want him representing you anymore doesn't mean that she doesn't." He strokes a finger down my face. "Come on, let's go find them. It'll be just like old times."

I smack his hand off of my face and back away from him. "No, Eli. No. That's not gonna happen again. Never."

He watches me carefully. "You used to love it. Don't pretend you didn't."

"That's not what I am anymore. That's not what I _need_."

"What _do_ you need, Nenita?" He snorts at my ensuing silence. "Do you even know?"

I shut my eyes tight, pissed off because no, I don't know, and I wish I did, so I could just shut him the fuck up already, erase that sneer off his face.

"No, I don't know, but I know what I don't need: you, or that life."

"You don't need me, huh?" he chuckles. "Let me tell you something, Bellita: in this city, girls like you - beautiful, talented, but without a fucking clue - are a dime a dozen. So here's some advice for you: if you ever plan to make it as a dancer, you're going to need to wake up, and soon."

And with that, he turns and walks off, leaving me standing there.

OOOOOOOOOO

After that, I keep to myself for the next few hours, hoping not to bump into Carmen or Felix, my old agent, or even Eli.

Angie is right. Being around Eli is no good for me, but how do you begin to break ties that are so deeply knotted into the most important facets of your life? Ties that are knotted into the only things you ever thought you wanted?

When the panel calls me back in at four in the afternoon, I go in by myself.

"I'm sorry, Miss Swan. You were very good, but we're looking for something different…someone with a bit more…

Their voices drone on and on and when they're done, I thank them for the opportunity and go home.

OOOOOOO

Mel makes a beeline my way as soon as she walks into class on Monday, bouncing excitedly on her toes.

"How did it go, Miss Bella?" she whispers anxiously. "Did you get the part?"

Aside from my staff and Angie, she's the only actual student who knew I was auditioning this weekend. I mean, she has been around for so much of my practice.

"No, Princesa," I shake my head, barely managing a weak smile.

Her little shoulders deflate, and her bouncing stops. "Oh, Miss Bella."

And then she wraps her arms around me in a tight hug.

To say I'm startled would be an understatement, so it takes me a few seconds to return the hug, but when I do…she's so young and sweet, and I feel some of her innocence seep into me through that hug, and God how I wish I could go back to those days when I still had some of my own innocence.

Because of her uncle's constant lateness, Mel and I have spent a lot of extra time together over the past couple of weeks, but that doesn't mean I should be showing favoritism. It's not professional. And more than anything, that's what I want to be.

Professional.

So despite how warm her embrace feels, I pull her away gently but firmly.

She steps back and shrugs. "There'll be more auditions, Miss Bella; you'll see! You're so great," she whispers. "Someday, you'll have your own show right on Broadway, and all the other dancers will be so jelly cuz it'll be all about you!"

I release a slight chuckle except it sounds sort of strangled because my throat is constricted, and it's all I can do not to cry right here and now.

"I want to be a Rockette," I whisper instead, admitting my life-long dream to her despite all the shit I've just reminded myself about professionalism and keeping her at arm's length.

My almost unreachable aspiration of being a Rockette is a dream of which I've never spoken to any of my students. The auditions for Rockettes are infrequent, extremely difficult, and they only take classically-trained dancers. And I'm a quarter of an inch too short.

"You will be. You'll see!" she says with all the faith and simplicity of a twelve-year old. "You'll be the best Rockette who ever danced at Radio City! If at first you don't succeed, try and try again!"

She makes me chuckle despite the misery in which I'm still wallowing; so sweet and wide-eyed despite the hard shell she usually tries to wrap around herself.

"And where did you learn that?" I ask with a smile.

The pretty grin on her face slowly fades. She shrugs, and this time I'm the one who pulls her towards me, who wraps her in a hug.

"Mel…thanks, Princesa," I say, stroking her cheek gratefully.

Afterwards, I manage to get through class feeling a bit better. The world is full of possibilities again, and it took a sweet, beautiful, yet sometimes melancholic twelve year-old to remind me that I don't need Eli or Felix. It'll be harder, but I can do this on my own.

And as the girls all trail out of the classroom, I rush out feeling more energized than I have all weekend. I've got back to back classes today, and now it's time for Zumba! Once that's over, I'm thinking I'll see if Angie and Mel want to try Chinese tonight. I feel my appetite returning, and between Chinese food, chocolate and the company of my girls, I may just be able to shake the last leg of this-

"Bella!" Angie calls me over from where she's standing by the door to our Zumba class.

I quickly walk over to her. "Que pasa?"

"How you feeling, Bellita?" She strokes my arm. "Are you feeling better?"

I give her a shrug and a smile. "Yeah, I am actually."

She searches my eyes and nods before jerking her head towards something behind me. I follow her gaze.

There's a woman a few feet away. She's wearing a frustrated expression on her heavily made up face as she takes in the throng of girls and boys rushing about her. She's dressed in a tight, cropped, black tank top and tight, cropped, black tights. Her hair is bleached blonde platinum. As she moves from side to side, apparently searching for someone, she teeters on ridiculously high stilettos, while she props her hands on her waist, pouting through blood-red lips. I don't recognize her as anybody I've seen here before.

"Just look at those tetas; they don't _move_," Angie chuckles. "How much silicone you think is in those? And those lips are collagen galore! And what horse had to die for that head of hair?" When the woman turns around again, Angie snorts. "Oh, hell no." She tilts her head sideways "You are not gonna try and tell me that nalga's real! That shit is _plaaastic_," she snickers. "I'll start the class; you go find out who she is. Vete! Go!" she hisses, shoving me towards the woman.

I approach warily. "Hi, may I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mel. Melody Cullen?"

"And you are?"

"I'm her uncle's girlfriend. I came to pick her up."

For two seconds, it sorta feels like all the air has gotten sucked out of the room.

"_Edward's_ girlfriend?" I find myself asking because there's always the possibility she's talking about another uncle of Mel's.

The woman quirks a brow at me. "Yes, _Edward's_ girlfriend."

In a million years, I wouldn't have pictured _him_ with someone like _her_. Then again, I remind myself, I don't know him – at all.

I guess I stand there staring stupidly for a few seconds too long, because she huffs impatiently.

"Sorry, may I have your name, please?"

Her eyes flash. At least I think they do. It's hard to tell with all that black supposed-to-be-smoky-but-just-looks-like-shit caked around her eyes.

"It's Heidi," she snaps.

What the fuck? Did this bitch just snap at me?

We glare at each other for a second, but I'm a professional, so instead of punching her in her collagen-filled mouth, I walk over to Studio One.

Mel is sitting on the floor talking with Becca and a couple of other girls.

"Hey, Mel?"

"Yes, Miss Bella?"

"Do you know someone named _Heidi_?"

_Please say no. Please say no_. _Please say no._

Mel starts shaking her head, and I feel a wave of relief begin to course through me. But then a scowl forms on her pretty face.

"Wait, my uncle's fuc…I mean friend. My uncle's friend is named Heidi."

_Coño, carajo, puñeta, and every other fucking derivative of fuck I can think of. _

"Well…she's here for you."

"What?" Mel cries. "Ugh!" She closes her eyes and snatches her bag off the floor, jumping up and stomping out of the room past me.

I look over, and when she spots Mel, Heidi's expression morphs from the open glare she was giving me to a huge and obviously as phony as the rest of her grin.

"Mellie!"

"He sent _you_?" Mel replies, crossing her arms across her chest.

"'Course he did." The woman's blood red lips stretch from end to end. Her eyes flash my way smugly.

Mel simply stands there. It's not hard to see that she can't stand this woman, and for some reason, that makes me a lot happier than it probably should. In fact, it makes me the happiest I've been in a while.

"Let's go, Mellie," the plastic bitch says.

But Mel doesn't move.

"Mel," I say, "do you want to call your uncle and confirm?"

Now the woman turns to me again, her phony smile replaced with an all-out glower.

"Confirm what? Edward _told_ me to pick her up! Don't you understand that?"

"I understand that," I respond as calmly as possible, but I feel the way my nostrils flare, "but you need to understand that _I_ am currently responsible for Melody, and I can't release her to you unless I have confirmation from Edward."

"What's going on?" Angie says behind me.

"I got it, Angie," I say, but I can still feel her there. "I've got it," I murmur, turning around to meet her gaze. She's glaring at Heidi. "Do me a favor and go get class started."

Angie purses her lips and turns around. "_Puta plastica_, I will kick that ass," I hear her mutter quietly as she walks away.

"This is total bull-" Heidi fumes, pulling out a cell phone from her fake Fendi bag - with '_P's_ all over it instead of '_F's_.

"No," I say and turn to Mel. "You call him from your cell phone."

Mel stares at me, and then her mouth lifts up at the corners, blue, blue eyes sparkling as if she knows exactly what I'm doing, that I'm fucking with this Heidi woman, and she completely approves of the game I'm playing. But I'm not fucking with her. As Melody's teacher, I _am_ in charge of her right now, and I really do need to confirm that this is kosher.

Don't I?

Mel smirks as she searches for her Uncle's contact info, and then puts her phone to her ear.

"Did you actually send _her_ to pick me up?" she asks in lieu of a greeting. "Ugh, you have got to be kidding me," she mutters, staring down at the floor. "Fine. Fine. I said fine!"

"Let me speak with him," I ask, holding out my hand for the cell. My heart beats triple time when Mel hands it to me.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?" His voice is low and rushed, like he's in the middle of something. I hear murmured voices in the background.

"It's Miss Bella, um…Bella," I restate, looking at Heidi, who's still glaring at me. "Is it okay for Mel to go home with this woman, _Heidi_?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine," he says quickly and quietly. I feel kind of stupid for doing this because he's obviously distracted right now, but it was the responsible thing to do, and now he's given me his answer.

"Okay. I was just double-checking. Sorry, I didn't mean to bother you."

"It's okay. You're not bothering me. And thanks for calling." He still sounds rushed, but maybe not so distracted anymore. For two seconds, I hesitate with the phone to my ear, feeling as if there's something else I should be saying; maybe something he wants to say. But when the silence stretches out, I return the phone to Mel.

She takes it and throws it in her bag. "I can't believe this! He's such a-"

"Hey," I cut her off and then tug her by the wrist a couple of feet away from the Plastic Bitch - ignoring that one's attitude with the obvious teeth-sucking and glaring and impatience.

"Look, it's obvious you're not crazy about this woman, but should I be worried about her hurting you, cuz that's a totally different story."

Mel shakes her head begrudgingly.

"Then cut your uncle some slack, okay? And show him some respect. He's just doing his best to get you picked up on time so that you can get home and get your stuff done early."

She stares at me and suddenly looks thoroughly abashed, dropping her eyes to her feet.

"Sorry, Miss Bella."

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one you were just rude and disrespectful to on the phone."

She just nods, still staring at the floor.

"Alright then," I say more softly. "I'll see you on Wednesday, Mel."

"Okay, Bye Miss Bella," Mel responds a lot more sedately.

I watch her walk away. Miss Plastic glares at me before click-clacking after Mel in her hooker heels.

OOOOOOOOOO

So for the next couple of weeks, Heidi, or as Angie now refers to her, _'La puta plastica'_, comes to pick up Mel. I kinda start regretting having asked Edward to have Mel picked up on time. All I meant was that the kid needs a schedule. Besides, it was sorta cool to hang out with her. Kinda like the little sister I never had. Or something.

It's not because I can't stand the sight of Edward's _friend_ or girlfriend or whatever the hell she is. No, that's not it at all.

Anyway, it is good for Mel to get home early. She needs a real routine.

One Friday, I'm in the middle of Mel's Hip Hop class when one of my girls gets sick. The class stops, and I rush over to where she's bent over throwing up. When the vomiting finally ends, the poor girl starts crying.

"It's alright, Hon; it's alright," I stroke her back. "Let's go clean you up and get you some fresh air. Jake, please take the rest of the class to Studio Three. It's empty right now. I'll clean this up after I get Lexie settled."

"Miss Bella, is there anything I can do to help?" Mel asks.

"Yes, please go ask Miss Angie to give Lexie Ryan's parents a call and tell them she's sick and needs to be picked up. Thanks, Mel."

"No prob; and then I'll start cleaning up in here."

I smile over at her, then take Lexie to the bathroom and help her clean up. Afterwards, we step outside into the cool, crisp, fall air.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask, holding her carefully in case she feels faint.

"Yeah, actually, I am, but I do feel off."

"Alright," I stroke her arm soothingly.

Angie joins us. "Lexie's mom will be here in about ten minutes."

"Thanks, Angie," I murmur. "Do me a favor, can you ask Jess to go clean up the room? Mel volunteered to do it, but she needs to get back to her class…"

I trail off because Angie isn't paying me any mind. Instead, her gaze seems to be somewhere just beyond me, grin full of mischief.

"Bellita, I'll take care of everything. You stay out here and get some fresh air, okay? Hey, Lex, how 'bout we wait inside so you can sit?"

"Thanks, but I'm going to help Jess clean up the-"

"_I'll_ help Jess clean up. You stay here, _coño_! _Quedate aqui_!" she practically growls, wrapping an arm around Lexie's shoulder and guiding her quickly back inside.

So I stay outside, because I really do need some fresh air. I can't stand the stench of vomit, but poor Lexie needed help. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, breathing in the scents of Brooklyn: varied cuisines mixed with car exhausts and gasoline. There's the scent of cigarettes…cigarettes and hard work and sweat and something still clean despite it all…

When I open my eyes, Edward is standing a few feet away, having a smoke and just…staring at me.

"You alright?" he asks, taking a long drag before dropping the half-smoked stub to the ground and stomping it out with his heavy boot.

"Yeah. We just had a girl get sick during class. It happens sometimes."

He nods, his eyes moving away from me, gazing straight ahead at the passing traffic along Smith Street.

"You were very…tender with her."

"Was I? That's the way my stepmom treated me when I got sick as a kid, so…I guess that's how you're supposed to do it." I shrug and stare straight ahead too. If he won't look at me while he speaks to me, then I won't look at him.

Except my eyes must not get the memo on the "Edward" embargo because they move to the corners of their sockets against my wishes, attempting to at least side-glance.

"I guess," he agrees, as if he's not entirely sure. "Some moms are really great while there are others out there who couldn't care less. You got lucky with your stepmom."

"Yeah, I suppose I did." My brows furrow at his confusing speech, and through my indirect staring, I can just make out wild hair, worn jeans and a black t-shirt.

"You're early," I point out.

He snorts. "Yeah, I guess I am, huh?"

"How come your…_friend_ isn't picking up Mel today?"

Fuck, I hope that didn't sound as catty as it did in my head. Please God, don't let it have sounded as catty.

"Mel's grandparents are coming to pick her up tonight. They live in the City. She spends a weekend a month with them, and I've got to get her ready to go."

"Oh, your parents?" I ask curiously, breaking my pact to myself and turning towards him.

He turns and meets my gaze, and those eyes…Jesus, those eyes. They take in my body from top to bottom, and there goes my skin tingling everywhere his eyes reach. I want him to see me, but I don't want him to see me. Why does he look at me that way if he doesn't want to look at me at all? Why is his gaze so heated, so dark? Why can't I ever be the first to look away?

He snorts again. "No, not my parents. My parents aren't around."

I wait for him to elaborate, but of course, I'm asking for too much. When the silence between us begins to stretch out into uncomfortable territory, I start turning around to walk back inside.

"So how long have you been dancing, Bella?"

If he was by chance listening carefully, there's no way he missed my miniscule gasp of surprise at the fact that he's actually starting a conversation with me.

"Uh…according to my Dad, I learned to dance before I learned to walk. I used to dance in my high chair, in my baby swing, in my sleep…" I chuckle.

He grins. Lord Almighty, he grins, and I feel like I've been given front seats to the most incredible show on earth.

"I can believe that. You do it so…naturally."

He must see the question in my expression because he jerks that angular jaw towards the large, store window.

"You were watching?" I murmur.

He nods and takes a step closer to me. "It's…hard not to watch you when you're so…obviously involved in what you're doing. When it's so clear how much you love it."

He swallows thickly, and I see his Adam's Apple bobbing. My breath catches in my throat.

"I do enjoy it."

"It's good to enjoy what you do."

"What about you, Edward? What do you enjoy?"

He smirks and rakes a hand through his hair, looking away from me. "What do I enjoy?" He snorts. "I'm not really sure what I enjoy anymore."

He meets my gaze again with piercing eyes, and it makes me dizzy, makes me feel like I'm spinning around and around, so I drop my eyes to his shoulders, past his strong chest, down to where his thumbs coil around the belt loops on his pants. His stained hands are splayed across his lean thighs. Without conscious thought, I reach out and wrap my hand around one, un-looping it from his belt loop. I think I hear an intake of breathe, but my blood is pounding too loudly between my ears to know for sure, and I can't get myself to look at him. Instead, I inspect his stretched out hand in mine. It's large, with long fingers and wide knuckles; rough and tender all at once. I trace the paint and spackle on his fingers, feel the calluses on his palm before flipping it over.

"Well, you work with your hands, but you do enjoy it, don't you?" I murmur shakily.

It takes him a few seconds to respond. "Yeah, I suppose I do. How did you know that?"

Now I do look up. He's watching me so carefully. "I'm a fortune-teller. I have gypsy blood in me."

He quirks a brow. "Do you?"

I chuckle softly at him. "No, I don't. I'm just kidding.

He smirks.

"It's just that..." - I continue - "your hands are the hands of someone who puts his all into what he does."

We hold each other's gazes silently; his green eyes are darker then they were just a short while ago, and I feel like if he'll just let me keep looking into them, I'll learn everything he won't say aloud.

"You know you can wait inside," I hedge. "You can't smoke in there, but you can wait, and..."

He hesitates for a split second before withdrawing his hand from mine and sticking it in his pocket. Then he takes a clearly tentative step towards the door…

…and turns around.

"Nah. I'll just stay out here. Let Mel know I'm out here when she's done, alright?"

You know what? Fuck you. I don't have time for this.

I don't say it, but I think it because when he looks at me it's like he wants to say so much, but he doesn't. And he barely looks at me. And I think I've got vomit on my hot shorts somewhere. And even if Jess is cleaning up the room, I've got to go make sure she gets it all out because I don't want a classroom full of sick kids.

And why does a guy who barely looks at or speaks to me get me all flustered this way?

"Yeah, sure. I'll let her know. Take care," I mutter and turn to walk back.

"So what are you doing this weekend?"

I'm positive that he's speaking to someone else. There must be a friend of his standing to the side that I didn't notice. Maybe someone he knows just passed by.

But when I turn around, that heated gaze is on me. Well, it's on my ass, but when I turn around, he quickly moves it up to my face.

"Me? What am _I_ doing?" I swallow thickly. "Well, a couple of times a month, Angie and I hold weekend classes for the competition teams. It's just for a couple of hours on Saturdays, but this Saturday isn't one of those weekends. I mean, we did it a couple of weekends ago. Not the weekend that just passed because I had an audition-"

"You had an audition? How did it go?"

"I didn't get it, but that's alright." And it is; it's alright. Right now, everything is alright.

"That's a shame. I can't imagine you trying out for something and not getting it."

"It happens," I smile. "A lot. Anyway, like I was saying, last Saturday I had that, but this Saturday I have nothing. No classes or anything. Nor do we have any on Sunday."

And this is my long and babbling way of saying that I am completely free this weekend.

"So I have nothing to do this weekend," I finally manage to utter, heart in throat.

He holds my gaze and then opens his mouth-

And sticks a cigarette in it.

"Well, enjoy your weekend, either way."

If I could shoot daggers out of my eyes, Mel's uncle would be speared through with about fifty of them.

"You enjoy yours too." I smile and then turn around and shake my ass Angie-style as I calmly and smoothly walk back into my studio.

* * *

**A/N: T****houghts?**

**Don't forget to check out The International House of Fanfic blog!**

**Translations:**

_**Nenita**_** – Girl**

_**Que pasa**_** – what's going on?**

**_tetas_ - tits**

**_nalga_ - ass**

**_Coño, carajo, puñeta –_**** fuck, or damn.**

**_Puta plastica_**** – plastic bitch.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to "Stories by PattyRose" is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend, and see ya Monday!**


	8. Chapter 8 - She's Got Fire

**A/N: I forgot to mention this last week: S&S was rec'd on The Lemonade Stand for the week of 1/20! It may change by today for this week's recs, LOL, but I'm proud of the fact that it was there in the first place. So thanks TLS. :)**

**Once again, I need to thank Love Potions Brewer AND her hubby for their construction know-how assistance with this chapter. That scene was a total disaster before their consultation services. ;)**

**Betad THREE times by the ever-patient Michelle Renker Rhodes. Any remaining mistakes are totally mine because I just can't leave a chapter alone.**

**And of course, most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 - She's Got Fire**

**EPOV**

"Mr. Cullen, this is Aro Volt, Mr. and Mrs. Brandon's attorney, with a reminder that Ms. Melody is due to visit Mr. and Mrs. Brandon this weekend. Please have her ready at eight p.m., and-"

"Yeah, yeah," I say quickly into the cell phone. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Their car will pick her up from you in front of your apartment building at eight p.m. sharp this evening and will drop her off to you in front of your apartment building at eight p.m. sharp on Sunday evening. If you-"

"Anything _new_?" I amend. "Because I already know all this shit. We've gone over this for the past seven goddamn months. I'm aware of how it works."

"I'm just doing my job, Mr. Cullen."

"And I'm doing my job," I hiss, "except my job involves more than sitting my fat ass at a fucking desk and stopping people from doing their jobs by taking up their time with useless goddamn phone calls to tell them the same shit they tell them month after month."

"As always, great talking to you, Mr. Cullen."

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time I make it to the studio to pick up Mel, I'm worked up and pissed off. Cutting the day short means I've got to work more hours tomorrow - goddamn Brandons and their goddamn lawyers.

The way the studio is set up, there's one room inside that's partly visible from the large glass window to the street. I've never been here early enough to notice it, but there's a class going on, and as I light a smoke and pause in front of the studio window, I snag a glimpse of an ass shaking in a way that should be goddamn illegal for public view. If any of the motor vehicle conductors driving down the street get a look at this, there'll be a twenty car pile-up.

Holy hell.

It's Bella, the beautiful dancer. She's teaching her class, Mel's Hip Hop class. I think I see Mel in my periphery, dark hair that might be hers, but I'm not even gonna fucking lie. My eyes are on that ass.

Then she starts moving her whole body, and her breasts jiggle – not too much, but the way real breasts should move when a woman's getting down.

"Holy..."

I turn around to catch my breath - and instead catch a couple of guys standing behind me, eyes glued to the window.

"What the fuck? You guys got a fucking problem?"

They jerk their heads back, look at each other, and then quickly walk away.

With a loud groan, I close my eyes and expel a low oath.

When I turn back around, Bella has stopped dancing and is crouched next to a young girl about Mel's age who's throwing up. When the vomiting stops, she wraps an arm around the girl's shoulder and carefully leads her out of the room.

I turn to the street again and light up another cigarette to replace the one that fell out of my mouth. With long drags of smoke, I try to burn away the image behind my eyelids, but my head spins. It should be nothing new. My head used to spin all the time when I drank, but this is different. This feels like I need to dig my boots into concrete if I don't want to fall the fuck over.

And then I smell something wonderfully sweet, something like honey.

Bella is out here.

She's comforting the sick girl and doesn't seem to notice me, and I'm not sure if I'm relieved or upset by that. Either way, when her friend Angie walks out, that one does notice me right away and grins this wide grin; it's not lusty, but I can tell that somehow I'm in a heap load of trouble now.

Angie quickly ushers the sick girl back inside, and I'm left out here alone with Bella - who finally does look my way and catches me staring at her.

So now I'm back to being forced to make small talk with her when I can barely hold a coherent thought while she's around, much less articulate words. I try desperately not to look at her too much while we talk because she's got a goddamn man, and I've got shit to offer anyway. But she's like a magnet.

Then she touches me.

She takes my hand, and holy hell her simple touch reverberates up my entire arm – just as it did the day we met. If I could barely speak before, now I'm having a hard time simply breathing.

Her grip is firm yet gentle, and in those few seconds while she traces my knuckles and brushes away grime and compound, I'm hit by a barrage of thoughts and memories:

Jasper teaching me how to use my hands to build things.

My hands supporting a newborn Mel right inside them.

The plywood sheathings I pushed through the table saw all afternoon.

She's still touching me, my hand I mean, and if I didn't know better, I'd think she liked how it feels, but it's too rough and callused for her smooth skin, probably feels like sand against silk.

Yet she touches the calluses too; ghosts the tips of her fingers over and over them and Jesus, I feel her touch _everywhere. _She's confusing the shit out of me, holding my gaze as firmly as she's holding my hand, looking at me as if she could possibly feel this heat with which she brands me, searching my eyes like she wants to find something in there, unaware that all she'd find is a whole lot of hell.

When I finally manage the strength to pull my hand away from hers, I shove it deep in my pocket because I don't want her to see the way she's left it shaking and burning with that heat. She's left my head spinning too, and when she invites me to come inside, for a split second, I almost do.

But I've got to keep my distance. I know what she thinks she sees under the work clothes and boots; Jasper used to say at least Dad gave us something good.

Unfortunately, he gave _me_ more than that. And if this beautiful dancer were to look close enough, she'd see that.

So I'm going to let her turn around and walk back into her studio by herself.

"So what are you doing this weekend?"

The words are out there, and I mentally curse myself for uttering them while I wait for her to tell me that she's got plans with her man: they're going to some pricey restaurant, or on a weekend getaway, or they're just hanging out and fucking all weekend.

But instead she starts talking about dance with her girls and her friend, Angie. And she tells me that she had an audition last weekend, but didn't get it, and I'm wondering who the fuck in his or her right mind would audition this beautiful dancer and not give her the part?

Yet nowhere in there is there a mention of her man.

But I know he exists. And I know he's the possessive asshole type, and I don't want a fuck buddy - not anymore and not with her. With someone like her, I'd want…I'd want…

And then I remember it doesn't matter what I'd _want_. I have absolutely nothing to _give_.

OOOOOOOOOO

Monday at work, I notice Emmett standing next to me while I saw down a two by four, which is strange because Em never just stands there.

"What's up, Em?"

He looks at Paul and Ben, a couple of other guys on our crew. "You two finish this up while Ed and I take care of a few other things."

"Yeah, Boss," they agree.

Em leads me away, hand on my shoulder while I pull out a couple of smokes and hand him one. "How are things going, Ed? How's Mel?"

"She's good, though a bit pissed off you didn't show up for the game last night. She said it would've been the only fun part of an otherwise shitty weekend."

Emmett chuckles. "Still with the language, huh?"

"You've got no idea."

"Sorry I left you guys hanging."

"S'alright. That girl from Bensonhurst come down again?"

"Nah. I wish it would've been something like that. How 'bout you? Did Heidi keep you busy this weekend?" he snickers.

"Hell no. I spent some time with my sister and her kids."

"Oh yeah? How's Rose doing?"

"She's alright. I did some work on her basement this weekend cuz her piece of shit husband had no idea where to start."

"Asshole," Em scowls. He glares at the floor for a couple of seconds, shaking his head before looking back up at me. "So that's it? You seem a bit distracted lately, Ed. I thought maybe you and Heidi…"

"Nah. Nothing going on there."

"Yeah, females are just trouble anyway."

Bella's beautiful face flashes through my mind. I take another drag and inhale deeply.

"Listen, Edward," Em goes on, "I got a call from Mr. S last night."

I stop walking and face him. "From S & D Contracting?"

They're our head contractors, the ones subbing us on this job. Em was beyond thrilled when we won the bid for the subcontract. S & D is a great contracting firm to which a group can be subbed. They've got connections, and if we do a good job, Mr. S's stamp of approval would go a long way towards getting other jobs.

He nods. "He says he's happy with our work, impressed even," Em smiles tightly, "but…one of the owners of the site has some…issues."

"Issues?' I frown, dropping the stub and stomping it out.

"Yeah." He draws in a deep breath. "The piping. According to Mr. S, the owners requested PEX piping instead of copper, so now we've got to knock down some walls, so it can all be replaced."

"What?" I howl.

"I know, I know," he agrees, palms up. "But the owner swears he requested a change order and that we should've known about it and stopped work until we had new plans from the architect."

"That's bullshit! You know how much work that was? How long it'll take to do all that shit over?"

"They know it'll set us back at least a couple of weeks, but that's how they want it."

"And who's gonna pay for the extra labor and material?"

Emmett stares at me.

"_We're_ absorbing that cost?"

"Look, I spoke to Mr. S at length last night, and while he understands that it wasn't our mistake, he's also adamant that we've got to give the owners what they want. He's agreed to split the cost with us."

I walk away a couple of feet and turn in a half circle, gripping my hair in my hands and trying not to explode. I can't afford this, not time wise and not money wise.

Emmett approaches me. "Look Man, I know this sucks. I'll absorb most of the cost for our crew-"

"No, and that's not even the point. The point is I know you, and you don't get your shit wrong, Em. We weren't told about any fucking change order. I've never known you to make a mistake like that."

"No, Ed, I don't fuck up like that," he smirks, "but this job is big break for our crew. S & D took a chance on us, and if we want to sub for this company again, if we want Mr. S to rec us out there, then we've got to take this hit."

"Who's the fucking bastard who supposedly requested the change order?" I hiss.

"He's here today," Emmett says, his eyes moving beyond me, mouth set in a sneer. "Apparently he came by to make sure there's no problem. Ed, I know this is fucked up, but…we need this. Let's just…" he sighs, "get it done. As long as S & D is happy, that's what matters."

I nod begrudgingly.

"One more thing. The next couple of weeks are going to be longer hours than usual. I know you've got your meetings, and you've got Mel to take care of-"

"I'll call Carlisle and let him know what's going on, see if I can work one on one with him over the phone or something. Heidi's been picking up Mel from dance, so that's no problem. Either way, I'll carry my weight, Em; you don't have to worry about that." I scrub a hand down my face and then pull out another smoke.

"I know you will and then some as usual, Ed. I'm not worried about that."

I'm trying not to turn around because I know that once I see that fucker, the owner with the changes, it's going to be hard not to at least flip him the bird or something.

"Look at the asshole, surrounded by his buddies," Emmett scowls.

So I do turn around.

There are a handful of guys gathered together, eyes sweeping the area in inspection as if they'd know what the fuck they're looking at anyway. All they see are the lofts that will soon be here and how many bills they'll be able to get for it. It's a good lot of land, right by the Brooklyn waterfront.

I'm thinking about these things while I narrow my eyes, glaring at the assholes…trying to place the one in the middle because I've seen him before, and one of those times, I was ready to lunge over a counter and bash in that pretty face.

It's Bella's boyfriend.

OOOOOOOOOO

About quarter after seven that night, while we're busting up walls, materials and pipes, I receive a text.

**Edward sweety, I cant pick up Mel 2nite. Some of my reglars came in fer late manis n pedis n I cant turn them a way**. **I'm gonna be hear fer atleest another hore.**

"Fuck," I grit as I text her back. **You couldn't have told me this earlier?**

**Forgot. Sory. 3**

I groan and send Mel a text letting her know I'll pick her up as soon as I can.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm late. I know how late I am as I park across the street from the studio and step out into darkness. A few street lamps illuminate the area, but most of the stores on the block have already closed down for the night, leaving _'Baila School of Dance'_ as the lone establishment with its lights still on. Scrubbing a filthy hand down my dirty face, muscles aching so bad that even moving takes effort, I pull out my phone, text Mel quickly to let her know that I'm outside, and then toss the phone back through the open window of the truck. With a deep breath, I lean against the truck and throw my head back, closing my eyes.

"Edward?"

My head jerks back up.

Bella is in front of me in yoga pants and a tight, cropped shirt, but it's kind of cool out so she's got a hoodie on over it. Instead of the bun I usually see her sporting, her hair is down and loose around her shoulders, and fuck it's the most shiny head of hair I've ever seen. She's got these long, loose waves going on and on, and I'm too tired to try to control the way my eyes rake over her from top to bottom and back up. When I reach her beautiful face again, she's smirking, her plump lips pursed.

"Look, I don't want to keep ragging on you about this, and like I told you the other day, Mel's a great kid, but you seriously need to work out some sort of routine for her. I can't guarantee that I'll always be around to accommodate your schedule. The studio is open from eleven in the morning until eight o'clock at night. Beyond that, you need to figure out some sort of plan for Mel. She shouldn't have to be up in the air until this time of night," she finishes, her chest heaving. Even in the dim light of the evening I can make out the deep flush of her cheeks, the color spreading across her collarbone.

Jesus, she's so beautiful, and for some reason, that fills me with a burning fury because she's too beautiful for him. And for me. And yeah, some part deep inside of me knows that she's right and that there's a schedule and that she has no obligation beyond that, that I do have an obligation to get Mel on time no matter what. But she's looking at me like she thinks I've been playing around for the past fourteen hours, like maybe my job is to teach other fuckers to dance and then to play Monopoly and have other assholes work their asses off on my properties and then change my mind about what the fuck I want, and then have those assholes absorb the work and expense of redoing it all.

"Some of us have real jobs," I hiss, locked into her bottomless, dark gaze. "…real responsibilities beyond kicking up our legs for a living and calling it a day."

She jerks back her head as if I've slapped her, and as much as I hate myself in that moment, my mouth can't seem to stop spouting shit.

"It doesn't end at six or seven or eight on the dot for some of us. We don't all have a rich fucking boyfriend to keep our work hours nice and short."

The moon shines over her perfect features, making it easy to see her lips curled in indignation, her eyes blacker than I've ever seen them while her honey-toned skin grows pale at the same time, her beautifully natural tan leaches from her cheeks. Onyx eyes expand with incredulity, and fuck I want to take it all back.

Yet I don't take anything back because I'm pissed off, because my head spins when I'm around her, because her man's an asshole, and because I can't believe how someone like her can be with someone like him.

When she finally speaks, her voice shakes.

"Well, it's a good thing that I don't have a boyfriend and that I've worked my _ass_ off for everything I have! What _is_ a shame is that some of us have irresponsible _fucking_ girlfriends who can't pick up their boyfriend's kid on time! And it sucks that some of us have irresponsible fucking uncles, who are off fucking around doing god knows what while-"

"What fucking girlfriend? And what do you mean God knows what? God knows what? I'm busting my ass doing and redoing shit because some people-"

And then we're just yelling over each other.

"I don't give a damn what you're doing! I have a life too, Edward! It may not seem like much to you, but I've got things to do, and I'm not going to play the part of your personal babysitter when you can't even tell me what-"

"No one's asking you to play babysitter!" I tell her while that invisible, electric pull she possesses draws me closer to her with every word. "She's almost thirteen; she can take care of herself!"

"Take care of herself?" she scoffs in total disbelief, taking her own step closer, so close I can smell the sweet honey off her skin, practically taste it on my tongue, and it intoxicates me beyond belief. "Edward, she's a preteen girl, who's obviously been through something traumatic! She needs a routine now more than ever! She needs structure, and to know exactly when you'll be picking her up-"

"Bella, I've been trying to get her picked up on time!"

"You're not listening to me!"

I wrap my rough hands around her face, the heat of her skin burning my palms. She gasps, but I hold on.

"I am listening to you," I growl. "I'm a fuck-up. I get it."

But she's not backing down. She's not the type to do so and that exhilarates the hell out of me despite what she's saying. She fists the material of my shirt in her fiery hands, scorching my skin, tilting up her head to meet my gaze head on while her eyes burn me, her entire being igniting sensations inside me that I've never felt, not even with the hardest shot searing down my throat, not with the best bottle in hand.

"That's not what I'm saying," she hisses. "I don't know what's going on-"

"That's right, Baby," I snort, her mouth so close I know I'll be dreaming about the exact shape of her lips tonight, remembering how her top lip protrudes just the right amount from her bottom lip, giving her a natural pout. "You don't know what's going on, and trust me, it's better if we leave it that way. You don't need to worry your head over things that'll just-"

Her nostrils flare, and she shoves my hands away furiously. "Enough! I apologize, Mr. Cullen, for trying to butt my nose into what is obviously none of my concern! All I'll repeat is that you have to work out some sort of schedule for Melody. That's it. Please disregard everything else I said tonight."

She takes two backwards steps away from me and closes her eyes for a few seconds, but when she reopens them, they're still full of so much fire that despite everything, my head starts spinning again. I'm drunk on her and like every drunk I have no idea what I do or say around her, and quickly regret both.

"Shit, Bella, I'm so s-" I begin, but she turns around so quickly that she almost bumps into Mel.

"Miss Bella?"

Apparently, neither one of us noticed her approaching, nor do I have any idea how much she's heard.

"I'll see you on Wednesday, Mel. Have a good night, Sweetie," Bella says, her voice still shaky, and then she runs across the street, whips open the door to her studio and disappears inside.

And I've never felt like a bigger asshole.

"What did you _do_, Uncle Ed?" Mel accuses as soon as Bella has disappeared.

I feel like my head's about to explode.

What did I do? What the fuck did I just say?

"Just…_fuck_," I curse quietly. "Just get in the truck."

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle gives me a call late Tuesday night to check in on me since I've informed him I probably won't be able to make the meetings for the next couple of weeks.

"You're taking it one day at a time, right?"

"Yeah, Carlisle. Work was crazy today, but it keeps me busy, keeps my head focused," I mutter, releasing a long and heavy breath.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. It's...nothing."

"That was a very frustrated sounding breath. Something you want to talk about?"

I don't respond right away. "I had a…pretty bad argument with someone yesterday, and I guess it's been…bothering me."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

That's the thing with Carlisle. Normally, I'd say no, but there's something about the way he asks things that make it almost impossible to keep shit to yourself. Guess that's why he's a psychologist, a good one too from what I've heard. He's got some kind of fucking willpower as well; he has to have willpower to be able to listen to people's problems day in and day out and not be driven to the bottle.

"It's just…I said some shit I probably shouldn't have said, and then she said some shit…"

"She? Heidi?"

"No, not Heidi," I smirk into the phone.

"Are you seeing someone, Edward?"

"No," I say, and grimace at the discomfort in my chest at that admission. "I'm not seeing anyone."

He's quiet for a couple of seconds. "You're still in a new place, Edward, and while a relationship can be very fulfilling, it can also be very volatile. That's why I wasn't so sure the relationship you had with Heidi was-"

"That wasn't a relationship, Carlisle," I snort.

"Yes, that's what you said, and…okay, if that's what you needed at the time to cope, and if that was clear to the young lady, then you're both consenting adults. But a real relationship, Edward, the type where you truly make a commitment is a lot of hard work, and as someone in the first stages of sobriety, you have to remember that you need to put work and commitment towards keeping yourself healthy."

Bella's beautiful face flashes before my eyes.

"Does that make sense, Edward?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Carlisle, it makes sense."

"So tell me about this argument."

"It was with Mel's dance teacher. I was pretty rude to her, and…she's got this…fire," I chuckle morosely, "so she gave it right back."

Carlisle chuckles. "And how did you leave it?"

"Not very well," I admit.

"Oh. Well, you know what step nine of the twelve steps calls for, right?"

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't intoxicated when we argued." _Well, not on liquor, at least_.

"Makes no difference. It's always good to make amends, Edward."

I think of the fire in Bella's eyes while we were arguing. And then I think of the way her voice shook, and her bottom lip trembled despite the fury, which she was obviously trying to contain. My chest constricts, and I rub at it hard with one hand, bewildered by the acute ache.

"Yeah, we'll see."

Carlisle sighs, but doesn't push it.

"How's Mel?"

"She's fine. Dance is…good for her, I think. She seems to be more animated lately."

"That's great. Do you think she'd like to start talking to someone?"

"I don't know, Carlisle. She doesn't like me bringing that up, and she's been in a better mood lately. I don't know if I want to mess with that," I chuckle.

He snorts. "Well, alright. But if she's ever ready to talk, don't forget I can put you in touch with a couple of good people."

"Yeah. Thanks, Carlisle. We'll be in touch."

"Good. Call me whenever you need to talk, Edward. I mean that."

"Yeah, thanks."

OOOOOOOOOO

I wait 'til noon on Wednesday to give Heidi a call.

"Are you going to be able to pick up Mel for me tonight?"

"Maybe," she giggles, and I grit my teeth together.

"Just give me a yes or no answer. If it's no, then I've got to try to get off of work early and-"

"I'll pick her up, Edward," she sighs.

"Thank you."

"Yeah. Hey! Maybe tonight we can watch a movie or something?"

"Heidi," I sigh, "I have to work late. I'm going to be exhausted tonight, and then I've got to make sure Mel's got everything in order for school the next day, and-"

"Fine, Edward, fine! Look, I've got a client. I'll talk to you later, okay?" she says, sounding pissed off.

"Alright," I agree and hang up quickly before she can change her mind.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that day while I'm working, I get to thinking about a couple of the things Carlisle said last night.

He's right. I do have to make amends with Bella. I was completely out of line; I'm not stupid enough not to know that. I made assumptions I shouldn't have made. Any elation I may or may not have felt at finding out that the asshole wasn't actually her boyfriend only lasted about half a second because really, what the hell does that change?

But the thing is that I have no idea where to start with her. My mouth isn't mine when I'm around her. The shit that spews out of it is…bewildering.

And besides, I don't have the time. When am I going to see her next? With the redo at work, I've gotten home past nine for the past couple of nights, and I have no idea when that's going to change.

As for relationships…and commitment…getting myself healthy…

Maybe if I'd met her a year from now, two years. If I was in a place where I'd at least begun to dig myself out of this hole, if I didn't need to pray to that bottle anymore…or if I wasn't living paycheck to paycheck…then I'd wrap my hands around that beautiful face and instead of talking shit, I'd press my mouth to hers.

But then I remember: no matter how much time passes, I'll always have to pray to that bottle.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I get paid the next day, I realize that making amends to Bella is probably the last thing I'll be able to do this week. We're taking a hit because of Bella's ex or whatever the fuck he is and his changes, and though it's being split between a couple of crews and S & D Contracting, I feel it in my pay.

Emmett hands it to me guiltily, though I know it's not his fault. He's making the best of this shitty situation, and he's right. If we can just get through this and earn Mr. S's approval, then it'll be worth it in the form of more business, and more business means more money, and then maybe someday...

Unfortunately, once I split up the check in all the different directions it's gotta go this month, I'm fifty bucks short for Mel's tuition, which is due tomorrow.

While I'm dropping off Mel for school Friday morning, I hand her the envelope with the tuition. "Give this to Miss Bella today and be careful. Don't go losing it in school or something."

She rolls her eyes at me, but then leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

I'm startled because those have been few and far between lately.

"Thanks, Uncle Ed, I know…this isn't the easiest…" She looks down at her lap, one hand fiddling with her shirt. "And I know I haven't been…so I just wanted to say thanks, cuz I like dance…and I really like Miss Bella."

"I'm glad you do," I smile at her. "She's...great."

"Then why were you arguing with her?"

And there's the question.

"Mel..." - I take a deep breath - "It's grown up stuff."

She smirks and rolls her eyes, and there's the Mel I know. "Whatever. I'll see you later." She opens the car door.

"Mel, just tell Miss Bella that the tuition is fifty bucks short, but that I'll have it to her by the end of next week, alright?"

I see the way her little shoulders fall before she turns around. "Uncle Ed...I'm sorry."

"Hey," I grin softly, "it's alright, Kid. We'll get it right."

She holds my gaze. "Yeah, alright." And she's out.

OOOOOOOOOO

At about seven thirty that night while Em and I are pouring concrete, I receive a text message.

It's a good thing that Em's built like a fucking ox because my hold on the concrete slips when I read the text, and Em quickly takes up the slack.

"What the hell, Ed?" he chuckles while I reread the text.

**Your fuck buddy was a no show again. I'm taking Mel home with me: 356 Montague, Unit 2B. When you're ready, that's where we'll be.**

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? **

**Frustrated with Edward? Give him a break, he's relationship-challenged, LOL. He'll get it soon though, I promise. ;)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to "Stories by PattyRose" is on my profile page.**

**See you all Thursday!**


	9. Chapter 9 - Let Me In

**A/N: ***PLEASE READ*****

**I don't give away plot spoilers, but I just need to clear something up: Eli DOES NOT know that Edward is part of the crew working on his property. He didn't request the pipe change just to mess with Edward, but because he's just generally an asshole. I just wanted to clear that up.**

**Alright, thanks so much for the reviews guys. You all have no idea how much I enjoy reading them. **

**This was thrice-betad (LOL) by Michelle Renker Rhodes, who's a saint to put up with me. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Let Me In**

**BPOV**

"_Ay, Bendito_, I think I need a cigarette and a change of panties!"

It's the day after the latest epic disaster between Mel's Uncle Edward and me, and I'm filling in Angie on all the sordid details.

"_Ay, que papi mas chulo_!" she fans herself. _(What a hot daddy)._

Apparently, Angie sees the scene very differently from the way I see it.

"It's not funny," I scowl, shoving her hard and almost knocking her off her chair.

"You're right; it's not. It's hot as fuck is what it is," she chuckles. "_Chica_, it sounds like you were one point five seconds away from being slammed against that truck and tongued down to within an inch of your life!"

I roll my eyes. "He wasn't going to tongue me down, Angie. He was too busy letting me know that I need to mind my own business."

"Mmhmm," she purses her red lips. "Tell me again what he did when you told him he wasn't listening to you," she pleads eagerly.

"I told you, he grabbed my face in his hands." I frown as I say it, but a shiver runs through me from the top of my chest right down to where my belly meets my ovaries.

"And what did you do?" she questions, even though I already told her.

"Well, he grabbed me so I had to grab him," I reply defensively. "I fisted his shirt tight in my hands," I whisper, "and held him hard because he was holding me hard…and then…he locked me in his gaze so I had to lock him in my gaze…" I breathe, unable to keep at bay the memory of how intense his eyes looked…how hard his abs felt against my knuckles, the heat of his chest so close to mine…

Angie leans in and wipes off the left edge of my mouth with two fingers.

"What are you doing?" I hiss.

"Just wiping off some drool," she says casually, and then breaks out into hysterical fits when I push her again.

"Nena, that right there is called foreplay. Trust me, next time that man gets you alone, he'll be grabbing a lot more than your face, and you'll be fisting a lot more than his shirt."

"_Vete p'al carajo."_ _Go to hell_.

"Ooh, the Spanish is coming out!" Angie giggles. "When the Spanish comes out, that means that Bellita is hot and bothered! How 'bout you curse out _Papi Chulo_ in Spanish next time; that should help move things along."

"You know, you're supposed to be my best friend, but you're really not helping me here."

She continues her chortles for a few more seconds, but then sobers up. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Look, seriously, Bella? He's a guy. Guys don't know how to fucking communicate unless you drag the words out of them. Next time you speak to him-"

"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "He dissed me, Angie! Not only did he assume that Eli was my boyfriend, but he implied that he _gave_ me what I have!"

"Well, that _was_ shitty of him, I agree," Angie concurs, yet while I'm nodding smugly she adds, "_but_…you never cleared up that boyfriend situation after Eli got handsy with you in front of him a few weeks ago,"

"Fine! But he also said-"

"And…" – she leans forward – "while he shouldn't have said that, you also assumed that the _Puta Plastica_ was his girlfriend…"

"Because that's what she said!"

"Oh yeah, and she's obviously real trustworthy," Angie snorts, leaning back against her chair. "Besides, you dissed him right back by calling him an irresponsible, fucking uncle."

More than a prickle of shame runs through me when I recall those words, making my shoulders sag under the heavy weight of remorse.

"All I wanted to tell him was that we needed to figure out something regarding Mel. I just wanted to help. I don't know how it got so…heated."

Angie reaches out and smooths back my hair, running her fingers through its length. "It got heated because there's obviously a whole lot of fire burning between you two and neither one of you knows how to handle it. Look, Bellita, take a few days to calm down, and give him a few days to calm down. Then talk, for real."

I draw in a lungful of frustrated breaths while I consider Angie's advice.

"Alright, but I swear to God, if he disses me one more time-"

"Then you grab his face and tongue him down to within an inch of his life. That ought to shut him up," Angie snickers.

OOOOOOOOOO

On Wednesday, Mel gets picked up by Heidi again. The _Puta Plastica_ may not be Edward's girlfriend, but she's obviously someone close enough to him that he entrusts her with the care of his niece. She knows things about him, about both Mel and Edward that apparently I have no right to know.

On Friday, Heidi is late, so Mel and I fall into what's become our routine over the past few weeks.

"Alright, Princesa, now when I move my right foot forward, you move your left foot back, and when I move my left foot forward, you move your right foot back. So basically, just copy what I do with my feet; keep your hands on my hips, and swing'em to the beat the way I do. Got it?"

"Yeah," she grins.

I hit play on the remote, and when Marc Anthony starts crooning in that velvety voice of his, trumpets, violins and bongos all purring and throbbing in the background, I move my right foot forward and her left foot follows. Guiding her hips back and forth, Mel and I spin and sway until she starts getting a feel for it and moves on her own.

"Don't just count the steps, Princesa, _feel_ the music. There you go!"

"I'm almost as good as you!" she jokes.

"Almost," I smirk.

Soon, the music takes over, and we're singing out loud while we move around the room. She's got rhythm; she really does because real rhythm isn't something that can be taught. You either feel the music in your bones, or you just memorize the steps.

So she's singing out unintelligible gibberish because she doesn't know a lick of Spanish. Then we switch over to tap and jazz and _Chicago_, and then to ballet and Tchaikovsky and she says she wishes she could take ballet lessons too, and I promise her that I'll give her ballet lessons, just she and I. And she gives me this…really great grin.

"You're a great teacher, Miss Bella."

"That's only because you're such a good student, Miss Melody," I tease her. "And you've got rhythm. Who'd you get it from, your mom or dad?"

And just like that, Mel stops dancing. She shrugs and turns her back to me, walking away, but the room is full of mirrors, so I clearly see the sudden pain in her beautiful features.

"Mel?"

"I'm tired," she says tightly. "When is my uncle's stupid fuck buddy going to get here already?"

I'm startled into silence by the complete and drastic change in Mel, as well as the language that's erupted – and yes, this clarification for Heidi's role in Edward's life shocks me as well. For a few seconds, I can't respond. But apparently Mel isn't done.

"She's probably pissed off at him or something. That's why she's so late. She wants to be his girlfriend, but my uncle's not about that life. He tells his friend Emmett that he doesn't have time for-"

"Mel," I say quickly, recovering my speech, "that's enough. I can tell that you're upset right now, but the language has to stop as well as the extra information about your uncle. Whatever the situation is, it's your uncle's business, and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate you discussing it."

She shrugs while her back is still turned towards me, but I see her through the mirror. I see her bottom lip start to tremble, and I see the first tears fall before I can rush over to her. When I do, I wrap her in my arms.

"Oh, Princesa," I tell her, running my hand down her long, beautiful hair. "It'll be okay, Sweetie. It really will." But she cries on and on, shaking her head while my own eyes sting something fierce.

"Mel…do you want to talk about it, Honey?" I murmur.

She keeps shaking her head. "No," she says shakily. "I just want to go home. I want to go _home_."

"Okay. Okay," I agree patiently, only I get the feeling the home she's referring to isn't actually one she can go back to anymore.

When I glance up at the clock again and realize how late it's gotten, I'm pretty sure that Edward's _fuck buddy_ isn't coming at all tonight.

"Look, do you want to come home with me? You can call your uncle and let him know that his fu-, uhm…friend was a no show and that he can pick you up at my place," I offer.

She stops crying and looks up at me through those sky blue eyes of hers, full of more sadness than a girl her age should ever have, and at that moment I vow that no matter what, no matter how much her uncle tries to push me away, I'll do whatever I can to help ease that sadness.

She nods. "Okay, that sounds like a good idea, but Uncle Ed had to work pretty late tonight. I'm not sure what time he'll be able to come get me."

"It's okay," I smile softly. "I'll make you some dinner, and then we can hang out and watch TV and just…talk. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," she smiles a bit wider.

"Good. Go get your phone, and give your uncle a call."

She walks over to her bag to retrieve her phone, and I let out a few uneven sighs because here I am, back to square one, sticking my nose where it apparently doesn't belong. But it's as if I have no choice. No matter what _he_ says, I have to be here for her, and I can't help feeling upset and…irrationally hurt by the fact that he'll trust Mel to _her_, to a woman who can't even be relied on to pick up Mel when she's supposed to, yet he refuses to even give me a chance?

Full of indignation and sudden nerve, I reach for my own phone.

"Actually, Mel, give me your uncle's number and I'll text him, okay? You just get your stuff together and do me a favor by locking all the studio doors. The keys are out on the counter."

"Okay," she smiles, and I smile back at her while she calls off her uncle's phone number for me, and then I compose my text to dear old Uncle Edward:

**Your fuck buddy was a no show again. I'm taking Mel home with me. 356 Montague, Apt 2B. When you're ready, that's where we'll be.**

A bit petulant? Maybe, but fuck it, he was a real asshole the other day. With a deep inhalation, I go ahead and hit send before I can chicken the hell out. Despite what Angie says, I do have big balls.

Sometimes.

OOOOOOOOOO

**Okay, thanks.**

That's the two word response I receive from Edward letting me know he received my text.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Wow!" Mel exclaims, turning around in a circle and taking in my space. "This is so cool!"

Her mood has shifted again on the way over here. I've made a mental note to give Sue a big hug next time I see her because if my teenage mood swings were anything like Mel's at that age…man oh man.

"You like it? It's an old, converted warehouse. They used to make toys here two decades ago!"

She chuckles while her eyes sweep over the loft. It's really just one huge space with red and brown exposed brick walls and wood floors. I've got the kitchen in one corner, the bedroom off to the back in another, and my living space is right in the middle. Right before the bedroom is a spiral staircase with no banisters that leads up to a walkway that leads to another smaller, loft area. It can be a bedroom too, I suppose, though right now I just use it as storage space: dance shoes, costumes for the comp classes, props and such. My talents don't lie in decorating or interior design, so I haven't really done much to this place in the couple of years I've been living here.

"Make yourself comfy, Princesa," I offer, jerking my chin towards the black sectional. "Or you can come help me get a quick dinner ready?"

"I'll help you," she smiles.

So I teach Mel how to cook rice and season beans, and half an hour later, we're eating them both with a roast chicken I picked up on our way home. And Mel is scarfing it down as usual.

"I think white rice and pink beans are may favorite food now," she says in between mouthfuls.

"Spoken like a true Puerto Rican," I grin with a wink. "We'll have to make you an honorary island girl."

She laughs.

After dinner, we wash the dishes together, just talking and stuff.

"I love the way those pants and that shirt look on you, Miss Bella. I wanted to wear an outfit like that to school the other day, but Uncle Ed wasn't having it. He's such a pain in the ass sometimes."

I'm wearing yoga pants and a cropped tank top, so yeah, I kind of see Edward's point of view here.

"That's because you're twelve."

"I'm almost-"

"You're _twelve_," I cut her off. "I'm twenty-four. My father wouldn't have let me out of the house like this at your age either; or at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen or seventeen. And I don't dress like this to take a walk around the neighborhood," I chuckle.

"Well, Uncle Edward's not my father."

Something's happening here. The anger mixed with pain is back in her expression. It almost feels like a test; like she's struggling to let me in somewhere, but she's not sure how, and there's an entrance exam that'll determine whether I'm allowed in or not.

I think back to the way her uncle talks to me with that same uncertainty, that same struggle, that same cockiness that sometimes borders on disrespect, and Jesus, I still have no idea what their situation is or why Mel never mentions her parents, ever. They're dead, I'm pretty sure of that, but she's never actually said so.

Why is it so hard for them to let me in?

Regardless, respect is respect. Mel needs to learn that.

"No, he's not your father, but he's your uncle and your guardian, so you have to listen to him because he's just trying to do what's best for you. There's no reason why at your age you should be showing skin in school."

She's silent for a few seconds, her pretty face impassive, but then she gives me a small, tight nod.

After the dishes have been taken care of, we sit and watch TV for a while, but then Mel starts yawning.

"Tired, Princesa?"

"Yeah," she confirms languidly, stretching her arms over her head. "I still have to study for a test when I get home. I didn't bring my books to the studio because I figured Heidi would be picking me up early."

I can't help frowning. Fucking plastic bitch. And damn Edward too.

"Is it anything you can look up online?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I guess. Polynomials and shit."

I raise a brow.

"Sorry," she says sheepishly. "I meant Polynomials and _stuff_."

"Well, why don't you use my lap top, and at least get some studying done that way? Then when you get home later, you won't have so much to do."

So Mel ends up lying across the sofa on her stomach, studying polynomials and shit – excuse me: _stuff_ - on my lap top while we sort of watch TV in between and eat baked plantain chips from the bag. She's got her feet on my lap, and we're both pretty comfy while we watch Adam Levine, and I tell her that I'm going to meet him someday.

"You're so lucky," she says as if the statement I've just made is an actual fact. "Can you introduce me?"

"Sure, and I'll introduce you to Beyonce too...and to J. Lo. I'm going to dance for them. Well, that is, while I wait for one of the Rockettes to be up for replacement." I laugh and look at Mel.

Her head is down over the laptop, jet black hair curtaining her entire face while she snores quietly. I lean forward and swipe her hair out of the way, so she can breathe properly and then carefully remove the laptop from under her, laying her head on the couch. Then I cover her with the throw hanging over the back of the couch. She curls up, and I mute the TV volume, resuming my munching while we wait for Mel's uncle.

OOOOOOOOOO

When the doorbell finally rings, the bag of chips flies out of my hands, spilling all over the floor, and I curse myself internally as I walk to the door.

Why do I have this reaction to him? He's made it painfully clear through both words and actions that he has little to no respect for me, and besides, Mel informed me just a short while ago in her quite blunt, almost thirteen-year-old way that her uncle just fucks around. And as if that's not enough, right before I reach the door, I remember the short text I sent him, calling him out on his fuck buddy situation, as if that were any of my business, and fuck, my hand is shaking as I reach for the doorknob.

Angie's right; I do tend to believe my balls to be bigger than they actually are. Shit.

When I open the door though, he's standing there without a trace of anger or hostility. He's dirty; his strong arms are streaked from forearm to wrist with mud and compound. It's in his hair as well, along with his pants and in his boots. I stare between his face and his boots, watching as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

And then I notice that he's holding out a bunch of red roses wrapped in clear, plastic cellophane.

"A peace offering?" he says with a crooked grin.

My heart thumps in my chest. I stare at those roses as if they're his own personal invention, as if he's holding out the entire world for me in his hands, as if no one has ever given anyone roses before - at least not roses this beautiful, this red or this _perfect_.

Call me a fucking push-over, but any lingering anger I may have felt quickly dissipates. I'm not even sure when I reached out for it, but the exquisite, immaculate bouquet is suddenly in my hands, and I draw in a deep breath, inhaling its flowery scent.

"They're gorgeous, thank you," I murmur, fanning the flowers out tenderly, adjusting the delicate baby's breath.

"Uhm…they're just from the corner store - nothing fancy. They'll probably die on you by tomorrow…."

"No, they won't. I'll put them in water right now," I decide out loud, gazing at my wondrous roses because they will _not_ die.

When I look up at him again, he looks so…painfully relieved that I just want to throw my arms around him.

"Come in?" I offer in lieu of the hug.

"Yeah, thanks."

Still playing with my roses, I walk towards the kitchen, but it takes me a couple of seconds to realize that I can't hear Edward's boots behind me.

When I turn around, he's still by the door, and his eyes quickly shift from my ass to my face.

If nothing else, he sure does like that ass.

He clears his throat. "I've got mud all under my boots. I don't want to get your place dirty."

"That's alright." I smile faintly. "I told you, my Dad's a contractor. I'm used to all this. But if it makes you feel better, just take your boots off right there and come meet me in the kitchen."

He nods slowly and kneels down on one leg, undoing his boots. I stare at his long, sock-covered foot for a second before remembering that my roses need water and resuming my walk to the kitchen to search for a vase.

"Mel's asleep?" He whispers behind me, most likely after seeing her laid out on the couch.

"Yeah," I confirm, filling the clear vase I've found with tepid sink water and gently placing my roses in it, arranging them prettily before placing the vase over the middle of the counter. "She was studying for a test she says he has tomorrow and knocked out."

"Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that test."

I look up at Edward again. He's standing on the other side of the counter island, looking nervous once more as he rakes a hand through his hair.

"Edward…I was hoping you and I could…talk."

Again, he just nods, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. He's so far away though, and I have no walls. I don't want to wake up Mel, so I walk over to him, coming to a stop next to him and leaning up on the counter, facing him.

The scent I've come to associate with Mel's beautiful yet mysterious uncle surrounds me, and suddenly it's all I can do to resist the urge to inhale him as deeply as I inhaled the roses a couple of minutes ago. He's so close that I can see the dirt in the small creases of his forehead, the dry paint on the light hairs along his jaw. I can tell that he's naturally very light-skinned, but working in the sun all day has given his face and arms a golden glow, even in the fall.

He runs a hand through his hair and swallows.

"Bella…" - the way he says my name makes me shiver – "I want to apologize about the other night. I'd had a long and…rough day. I was exhausted, but that's no excuse. I was way out of line, and I know it, and I'm very sorry."

He exhales heavily, as if the words have been burning a hole in his throat, and he's beyond alleviated to have them out there.

"Edward-"

"As for today, Mel was supposed to be picked up on time. I don't know what happened to my _friend_," he emphasizes, "why she never showed up. If I could've left work to pick up Mel, I would've, but-"

I put a hand out to stop his apologies. "Edward…let's just…forget about the other night. I'm sorry too. We both said things we probably shouldn't have. As for tonight, of course I know things happen. Things don't always go as planned; I understand that, and as I've told you before, Mel is no trouble at all. I actually enjoy her company."

He shifts his gaze to the floor between us, and before I lose my nerve, the way Angie tells me I tend to do, I dip my head and move in closer, forcing him to look at me, and now the distance between us has shrunk even more. Damn, those are some beautiful, green eyes, and they're so close…so, so close, and if I'm not careful, I can easily get lost inside them. I think I half am.

"But for Mel's own sake, Edward, there needs to be a routine here. That's all I was trying to say the other night. Mel needs to know when she's going to be picked up and by whom. She should be finishing her homework early and having dinner on time."

"I told you," he hisses, an edge to his tone, but then he closes his eyes, apparently reigning in a temper which tends to escalate quickly. "She was supposed to be picked up early. Something went wrong, and-"

"Well, you need to have a back-up plan for when something goes wrong."

His square jaw clenches tightly, and he glares at the floor again, but before he looks away, it's not anger that I see in his expression, but a deep shame.

My heart lurches. Without any thought whatsoever, I reach out and rest a hand on his arm, only meaning to soften any unintended harshness from my words, but the heat produced from the contact between us catches me by surprise; though, it really shouldn't at this point. It's there every time we touch. I draw in a deep breath through narrowed lips because my hand is suddenly melded to him.

But Edward misses all this because he still has his head down, and he's shaking it back and forth, raking a hand through his hair again.

"They trusted me, and I'm fucking this up so badly…so badly."

He says it so low. I'm not sure if he's talking to me or to himself.

"Look, I'm sure that's not true," I say softly.

He simply snorts, eyes still on the floor between us.

"Edward, I'm not trying to be a bitch to you here-"

His eyes find mine again quickly. "I'm not saying that you are. I'm an asshole sometimes, Bella, I know that, but I would _never_ say that to you."

And just like that, he's disarmed me again, taken away all my false bravado.

"And I'm not trying to be…difficult," I continue, though now I'm the one who can't meet his gaze. My hand is still on his arm, but now it's my eyes that drift to the space between us, to his boots. When I see them take a step closer, my heart stops, and suddenly it's so hard to breathe…to think.

I force myself to look up again, to look into those eyes that feel like they're searing into my soul, seeing everything, and I can only hope he can't see _my_ shame because unlike his imagined mistakes, mine are all too real.

"I have no idea what your situation is…" I trail off, waiting, hoping he'll finally throw me a bone here and let me in: let me know why he's in charge of a twelve year old girl, and why that twelve year old girl can't even bring herself to mention her parents, much less discuss simple facts about them.

But though he holds my gaze, though our faces are only a handful of inches apart, he says nothing and damn it, something deep inside of me aches because I think I've earned at least a bit of the story.

"Like I said, I have _no idea_ what your situation is, and I'll admit that I don't know about being anyone's legal guardian, but I'm around kids all day, and I know that they need structure, or they start going wild."

A short, humorless chuckle escapes him. "Being around kids all day isn't the same as being personally responsible for one twenty-four hours a day. It's not always that easy to provide that structure."

"I'm sure it's not," I acknowledge, trying to remain cool and in control despite his sometimes shitty attitude. Still, I drop my hand from his bicep, and he looks from me down to his bare arm, smirking back up at me. "And you're right, I've never been personally responsible for a kid twenty-four hours a day, but I was once a kid being brought up by a single man. I was once in a situation similar to Mel's, and I do remember my Dad having it hard at times. Luckily, he had people willing and able to help."

The wariness in his expression suddenly shifts to confusion as if I've caught him off guard.

Once again, I wrap my hand around his arm, holding on tight, more than a little exhilarated by how firm and strong he obviously is.

"I've been thinking, and…I think I've come up with a solution. On the days when Mel comes to the studio, she can just stay with me until you can pick her up. If we make it official, she'll know to bring her backpack and finish up her homework after class. She'll know we'll eat when she's done with class. She can help me out a bit: clean up some, organize paperwork, and send out messages and such. And if we're done with everything before you're ready to come get her, I can bring her home with me until you're ready. It can be a routine for her…for all of us, and in return for her help, I'll knock fifty dollars off her monthly tuition."

I blurt the entire speech out in one breath, and throughout the whole thing, Edward watches me with no indication of what his thoughts are - until I get to the end.

When I'm done, his green, green eyes darken; blaze even. He starts breathing hard, and I know I've said something wrong when his nostrils flare, and his lips twist up into a scowl.

"Knock fifty dollars off…" he repeats after a few seconds, trailing off and glaring at me incredulously. Shit, maybe I should've offered to knock off a hundred bucks. Yes, that would've been more reasonable.

I'm about to tell him that when he dips his head low, moving in again, and I take a step back because he suddenly looks predatory. But I'm trapped by the counter and there's nowhere to go. We're eye to eye, only an inch of space between us. I inhale sharply, and my eyes fall to his mouth, but when it moves, it doesn't move closer - or murmur words of gratitude, appreciation, or even negotiation.

"Knock fifty dollars off? What do we look like, some kind of damn charity case to you?"

"_What_?"

"Do you think I can't pay the damn tuition?" he hisses.

"No! No, of course not! I know you can pay! I'm just trying to help!

"We don't need your help!" he seethes, so close I can almost taste his breath; cigarettes and mint. "Just because I was a bit late with the fifty bucks doesn't mean you weren't going to get it! It doesn't mean I'm a man who can't pay his bills or who needs some damn woman to show him charity and bail him out of-"

"What the hell is your problem?" I whisper shout now. "Why do you always purposely misunderstand me? I'm not trying to show you charity, Edward! I'm not that fucking nice! I just want to help! I know what it's like not to have a mom around, and to have a dad that works fifteen hours a day just to pay the bills. I just want to help!" I repeat.

"We don't need your help!" he reiterates, sticking a finger in my face so that I'm forced to jerk my head back. "Don't compare yourself to Mel because you have _no idea_ what her situation is, what _our_ situation is," he says, digging that same finger into his chest.

I grab his finger and wrap my hand around it. "Then tell me what the hell the situation is!"

His green eyes blaze, and suddenly the atmosphere shifts, and his eyes veer restlessly between my eyes and my mouth, and I know he wants to kiss me. I know he does. And I'd be the biggest fucking liar on the face of this planet if I pretended I wasn't dying to feel his mouth on mine regardless of the fury in his words.

My lips part involuntarily, inviting, allowing, and waiting as the seconds pass…

He snorts. "You want to help. You're so damned ready to help when you have no idea what's going on, no idea what my situation is, no idea what kind of man I am, and obviously no idea what's good for you and what's not!"

He makes to move past me, but I grab his arm and force him to turn around because I'm either braver than Angie gives me credit for or stupider.

"Damn it, why are you making this so hard? Why won't you accept my help? Why do you keep pushing me away? This isn't about just you or me, Edward! This is about Mel! She cried in my arms for almost twenty minutes today!" I say shakily.

His eyes grow wide. "What?"

"Mel needs someone," I choke, "and I'm not saying she needs me, but…I _want_ to be here for her, and you won't let me, and I don't understand why. I don't understand what I ever did-"

Suddenly I'm surrounded by an all-consuming warmth; a heat almost violent in its intensity, and it takes me a couple of seconds to breathe, to realize that I'm in Edward's arms and that he's holding me tight against his chest, with my own arms wrapped around his waist, hands splayed along his unyielding back.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He runs his hands up and down the length of my hair. Holding me tight. So, so tight.

For a few minutes, we simply stand there, holding each other while he repeats his muted apologies. When he finally pulls away from me, his hands grip my hips firmly.

"You said you wanted to be there...for Mel," he says.

"That's because I do," I confirm.

He searches my eyes, and as I hold his gaze, it's as if I can almost see a wall crumbling, one small layer peeled back from the complicated mess that is Edward Cullen.

"I need help with her, Bella," he says, his voice thick and rough. "Jesus, I need help."

I swallow and hold his gaze despite the fact that I want nothing more right now than to bury myself in his strong embrace, to beg him to hold me like that again because for those few minutes…I'd never felt so safe and protected in my entire life.

Yet I fight through my needs and bewilderment and reach up, cupping Edward's rough cheek in my hand. He leans his face into my touch.

"Then let me help, Edward. Let me help."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Translations:**

_**Ay, Bendito**_** – Bless me**

_**Ay, que papi chulo**_** – oh, what a hot daddy**

_**Chica**_** – Girl**

_**Nena**_** - Girl**

_**Vete p'al carajo**_** – go to hell**

_**Puta plastica**_** – plastic bitch**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all on Monday!**


	10. Chapter 10 - The Missing Piece

**A/N: Thank you all for continuing to read this story here. I wasn't able to get to many of you last chappy, but sometimes I've got to choose between replying to reviews or writing. :( I'll continue trying thought. :)**

**So it seems we may have had a bit of a breakthrough last week…**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 10 - The Missing Piece**

**EPOV**

_The first things I remember about that day are the soft, childish giggles before I heard the knock on my bedroom door. I raised my head off my pillow slowly, but even that action hurt like hell. _

"_Edward, it's Mel and me," Alice said softly. "May we come in?"_

"_Hold on," I rasped through a dry, aching throat. I needed a drink bad, but wasn't getting one anytime soon - not with Jasper here. Instead, I licked my chapped lips, biting off the peeling skin and hoping that the pain and taste of blood would take the craving away._

"_Edward?"_

"_Alright, alright." I sat up and carefully swung my legs around to the side of the bed, covering up myself with the thin sheet and trying hard not to moan too loudly at the way my brain spun around and around._

_When the bedroom door slowly opened, I squinted my eyes against the dim, muted light that streamed in from the hallway, bringing with it more pain. Just as my eyes began to acclimate themselves to something other than the darkness I'd been in for the past three days, the bedroom light flickered on, and before I knew it, a soft, little body threw itself at me full speed. Yeah, it hurt like hell, but I couldn't be angry; I could never be angry with her._

"_Uncle Edward!" Mel cried. "You're finally awake! Mommy said you weren't feeling well, so I had to wait a little longer to wake you! Are you feeling better?"_

_She was only four years old at that point, but always older than her years, Mel spoke as clearly as any adult. _

"_I'm feeling much better now that you're here," I lied, because the truth was that I could barely see straight. "When did you get here?"_

"_This morning. Mommy says Daddy had to stay with you all these days because you were sick, and I couldn't come see you until you were all better. So are you all better now, Uncle Ed? Did you have a bad cold?"_

"_Something like that," I lied again. _

"_Oh. Then let's play checkers!" She bounced off my legs, dropped to the floor and began digging into Alice's bag. _

_Alice took a seat at the edge of the bed, and though I could feel her eyes on me, I couldn't make myself return her gaze. Not yet._

"_Mel, honey, Uncle Edward looks like he might need a little while longer before he's ready to play. Why don't you go in the kitchen and ask Aunt Rose to make you a snack? I'll be right there."_

_Mel stopped rummaging through her mom's bag and looked back up at me. "Is that true, Uncle Edward. Do you need a little longer to be ready to play?"_

"_Yeah, Mel. I think your mom might be right. I'll play with you tonight, okay?"_

"_Okay," she shrugged easily before looking at her mom. _

"_Go ahead," Alice smiled at her tenderly," and don't forget to say please and thank you." _

"_I won't!" Mel laughed, and then stood up and wrapped her tiny arms around her mom. _

"_Love you to the moon and back," Alice reminded her with a kiss on the nose._

"_Love you to Neptune and back," Mel giggled in return. It was their standard saying for whenever they were going to be apart for even a few seconds._

_Once Mel was out the door, Alice turned her blue, blue eyes my way, and though I knew I couldn't avoid them anymore, I tried holding out as long as possible. _

_Yet when I finally gave up and met my sister-in-law's gaze, there was no anger or accusation there. There never was with her. I often found myself wondering what Jasper ever did to get so lucky and find himself someone like Alice. See, she wasn't just beautiful; Alice was fierce; she stood up to her rich parents even when standing up to them meant being disowned. She was loyal and loved my brother insanely. She worked hard for her small family, adored and took great care of their daughter._

_She even took care of me._

"_How are you feeling?"_

"_Like shit."_

"_Yeah, you look like shit."_

_She was honest too._

"_Thanks," I chuckled._

"_Hey, I'm just telling it like it is, little brother," she grinned. "You're usually a really good-looking dude, almost as handsome as my husband, but right now…" - she narrowed her eyes, studying me - "no…not so much."_

_I snorted and looked away from her._

"_So that's what they call going off on a bender, huh? You must've had some kind of time!"_

"_Yeah," I smirked. "Some kind."_

"_Where were you guys, anyway?"_

_I closed my eyes and tried to remember, but it hurt like fucking hell to think, and as far as I could get was knowing that I'd met Sam and a couple of the other guys at the bar. There may have been a few girls involved; I thought I vaguely recalled someone on my lap, someone on Sam's…the rest was a lost and drunken haze._

"_Wow, you really can't remember." __Again, there was no accusation, no judgment in her tone. _"_It couldn't have been that good a time then."_

"_Alice-"_

"_Edward, I'm not here to rag on you or lecture you, little brother. You've got your sister to do that, and even Jasper's got a few choice words for you when you're ready to leave this room. He was down to kick your ass a few days ago. You're just lucky I reminded him of something."_

"_What did you remind him?"_

"_I reminded him that you're him, Edward…you're him without Mel or me."_

"_Al…" – I scrubbed a hand down my face hard, over and over, trying to push away that taste, but it was still there. Lately, it was always there. "Al, honestly, my brain's fried right now," I snorted. "Can we talk about this later?"_

_Alice reached out and pulled my hand away from my face before moving in and placing a kiss on my forehead._

"_You, Jasper and Rose, the three of you have a piece missing here," – she said, taking my hand and placing it on my chest – "and it's none of your faults. It's the fault of those that should've been here for you. Mel and I fill that space for Jasper, and Edward, when you find who fills that space for you, you won't need any of this anymore. I'm so, so sure of it," she smiled._

_And with that, she got up. "Now get yourself together because your niece wants to play checkers."_

OOOOOOOOOO

Monday morning, as Mel and I step out of our apartment building, I spot Heidi leaning up against my truck.

"Edward!" she waves when she sees us coming, bouncing on long, sharp heels.

Mel stops walking. "Uncle Ed, I thought you said I'd be staying with Miss Bella from now on? I swear if you ask Heidi to pick me up from dance tonight, I will run the hell away."

"Come again?" I scowl, raising a brow.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Ed," she backtracks quickly, much quicker than I honestly expected her to. "I just meant…please don't ask her to pick me up. I want to stay with Miss Bella. She's so cool, and Heidi is such a...I mean, I'm sorry I said 'hell'. I'll try to watch my language."

I'm honestly too taken aback by all the 'sorrys' in that sentence to respond right away. With a wary smirk, I raise the truck keys and unlock the door.

"Just…get in the truck. You _will_ be staying with Miss Bella."

Mel sighs in obvious relief. "Thanks, Uncle Ed!" She skips to the truck and gets in - but I don't miss the evil eye she sends in Heidi's direction first.

While Heidi makes her way over to me, I light up a smoke.

"Eddie, honey! I'm so sorry about last Friday! I had three last minute customers for spa manis and pedis, and I couldn't exactly turn them away! Do you have any idea how much I can charge for those just because I add some mint extract to the water and cream? I'll pick Mellie up tonight, okay? Even if I have to turn down customers. I'll do anything for _you_, Eddie."

I stare at her, tilting my head up to blow the smoke out in the air between us. I don't smoke around Mel, and when Bella's near, I always snuff out my cigarettes. Smoking keeps me sane right now, but I don't need either of them inhaling it second-hand. Yet if Heidi wants to stand this close to me, she's going to have to deal with that shit.

"You know what, Heidi? I can understand that something came up; things come up sometimes," I say, more or less repeating what Bella said to me the other night. "But you want to know what pissed me the fuck off? It's that you didn't even bother to call and tell me that you couldn't make it. Now I realize you were doing me a big favor, yeah, but this is my _niece_ we're talking about," I stress.

"Oh, Eddie, I said I'm sorry," she pouts, reaching up and resting her hand on my bicep - exactly the same spot where Bella rested her hand a few days ago.

The open glare I give her makes her drop her hand away quick fast.

And shit, now I feel…dirty - wrong for having allowed her to touch me where Bella's hand lay last. And while Heidi goes on and on, I'm wondering if there's any way I can get Bella to touch my arm there once more…

"…anything you want to make it up to you, Eddie."

With a deep sigh, I take one more drag before dropping the cigarette. "Thanks for your help in the past, but I've worked out a better solution." _A much better solution. _

Heidi's heavily made-up eyes narrow. "A better solution? You've got someone else picking up the kid?"

"You don't need to worry about that," I smirk.

"You found some other stupid bitch to help you take care of the kid, so you're setting me aside? Is that it?"

"Goodbye, Heidi," I snort and turn around because I don't have time for this shit.

OOOOOOOOOO

Rose calls me later on that afternoon because apparently when it rains, it pours.

"Listen, I won't be able to do it on a long-term basis, but I can pick up Mel for you this week and next. I had a long talk with Royce. He's promised to get home earlier, so I'll have him watch the kids while I go-"

"Thanks, Rose, but I've got it covered."

"What do you mean you've got it covered? I thought you had to work late for the next couple of weeks?"

"I do, but…Mel's dance teacher is going to be watching her until I get off work."

"Didn't you say Mel's dance teacher was on your case because you were picking her up so late?"

"It was a misunderstanding. She just wanted to make sure…look, I took care of it, alright? Mel will be fine now."

I draw in a deep breath, releasing it slowly as I let those words sink in, really sink in. Mel will be fine now. She'll be safe and well taken care of - thanks to Bella.

Thanks to beautiful, perfect Bella.

"How the hell did you work that out? Mel's dance teacher…Edward," Rose sighs, "_please_ tell me you're not screwing with Mel's dance teacher!"

"Rose, I'm not _screwing_ around with Mel's dance teacher."

"Good, because if you were, and you fucked it up, who do you think she'd take it out on? I mean, does she even know what a nasty piece of work you are when you're drunk?"

"I said I'm _not_ screwing around with Mel's dance teacher; therefore, she doesn't need to know what a fucking asshole I am when I'm drunk, does she? And by the way, thanks for that reminder. Mel's dance teacher is watching Mel because she cares about Mel. It has nothing to do with me," I hiss.

My sister is silent, but I can practically feel her incredulity through the cell waves.

"I hope you're not lying, Edward, and I hope that doesn't change because if you did, you'd just be jeopardizing what sounds like a pretty good set-up for Mel."

"Believe what the fuck you want. I don't have time for this. I've got to get back to work."

"Fine, but don't say I didn't offer to help!"

"Yeah, now when I don't need it anymore. Now everyone's coming out of the fucking woodwork."

"Good-bye, Edward!"

"Bye, Sis."

OOOOOOOOOO

We're in the middle of a break at work, and Emmett is on the phone, gesturing wildly though he doesn't look upset. I'm having a smoke and watching him, though who I'm really seeing before my eyes is Bella…and remembering how it felt to have her in my arms…

_"...you'd just be jeopardizing what sounds like a pretty good set-up for Mel..."_

I snort and drop my head, shaking it back and forth.

"Woohoo!" Emmett yells after he hangs up. He claps me on the back and like me, squats down.

"That was Mr. S," he grins. "He says the owners are happy with the progress we've made in the past couple of weeks! And when the owners are happy, Ed, Mr. S is happy, and when Mr. S is happy, he tells his buddies, and his buddies give us a call when they need a construction crew!"

"Finally, some decent news," I agree.

"Not just decent news, Ed," Emmett vibrates, "great news!" He looks around carefully, but the rest of the crew is either having their own smokes or caught up in other break time activities.

Emmett leans in closer and drops his voice. "Listen, I told you about the office building they're putting up a few blocks from here, right?"

"Yeah."

"A couple of days ago, I heard that they'll be breaking ground in early spring. Mr. S is one of the head contractors for that job, and I just found out that he'll be putting out an RFP for subs before the holidays."

"You think we got a chance at that?"

"If you would've asked me that a few months ago, I wouldn't have thought so. It would've been too big a job for us. But we've grown our crew, and this job here's been great experience for us. It's shown Mr. S that we know what the fuck we're doing. I think we've got a good chance, Ed, especially with you as my right hand man."

"Thanks, Em, I really appreciate it."

"Look, I know things are tight for you at the moment, and I can't offer you an increase now-"

"Emmett-"

"But if we win that bid, Edward, McCarty Construction will be in a completely different category. It'll be a whole different ballgame and the pay will increase, Ed. Things'll get better for all of us."

A huge breath of air swells up my lungs.

Emmett chuckles. "And I made sure I let Mr. S know that you're a big reason for why this job is going so well. I mentioned you by name, and though he may not know who the fuck you are right now," he snorts, "he will soon. He'll know us all by name when we win that bid," he says confidently.

"That sounds really great," I chuckle heartily.

"Yeah, it does." He looks at me curiously. "Hey, you've seemed really…mellow today. Besides the news I just gave you, what the fuck is going on with you?"

"Nothing," I shrug, still grinning. "It's just…things seem to be working out better lately."

"Yeah? Glad to hear it," he says, clapping me on the back. "You finally figured out the pick-up situation with Mel?"

"Yeah. She's going to be staying with her dance teacher in the evenings until I can pick her up."

"Really?" Emmett says, jerking his head back in surprise. "That's really cool of her dance teacher."

"Yeah. She's a really great…dance teacher."

Emmett stares at me. "What exactly does this great dance teacher look like?"

My grin widens.

"Oh shit," he chuckles. "You tappin' that?"

And the grin fades. "Nah, Man. It's not like that. She's not like that. She's just a…really great person, gorgeous and great. She's not the kind of girl you fuck around with."

"Oh really?" Emmett asks, and I can hear the surprise in his voice. "Well if that's the case, why don't you make an honest move then?"

"Honest move to what, saddle her with _all_ my fucking problems?" I snort, the good mood I'd been in quickly disappearing. "It's already bad enough that she's going to be watching Mel for me free of charge and is even giving Mel a friggin' job. I mean, from what you just told me, things may start looking up financially, but right now, I'm one fucking broke ass bastard. What girl do you know would want to involve herself with someone like that?"

"Well, I don't know anyone personally that would," he jokes, but this time, I can't laugh along with him. "Does she know about your addiction?" he adds bluntly.

"What, everything else I mentioned isn't enough?" I snort.

"Hey, you might as well lay out all the cards on the table and take your chances."

I stare straight ahead at the dozer digging up earth and rocks, but what I'm seeing again is Bella. Everywhere I look, I see her. Everything I do, she's there; in the back of my mind. Sometimes in the forefront. She's everywhere.

Yeah, she's attracted to me; I know she is. Maybe almost as much as I'm attracted to her, but that's because she doesn't know. She knows some, but she doesn't know it all. She doesn't know the worst parts, and if she ever found those out…

_"...you'd just be jeopardizing what sounds like a really good set-up for Mel..."_

I stand up and stomp out my cigarette under the tip of my old boot, digging it deep into the muddy ground.

"Come on, let's get back to work. I want to try to finish this up by the end of next week before that other fucking owner shows up and starts talking shit to Mr. S."

OOOOOOOOOO

**Hey, Uncle Ed. Miss Bella asked me to text you and let you know that we're headed to her place now. She said to just come over whenever you're ready. **

**Alright, Mel. See you in a few. Behave.**

**Duh. Of course.**

**Hi, Edward. I just wanted to let you know that we're headed back to my place now. We'll be there when you're ready, okay?**

**Alright. Thanks, Bella. This is really great of you. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. I don't know what I'd do without-**

I quickly 'x' out that entire message.

**Okay, thanks. I'll see you in a few. Thanks again. Really. You're so great. You're the best thing that's-**

I erase that one too.

**Thanks, Bella. I'll see you and Mel in a little while.**

I stare at that one for a couple of seconds and then hit send.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the first time in months, when the sun begins to set that evening and I'm still at work, I don't feel a wave of guilt creeping up on me because Mel is either home alone, or waiting for me at the studio when she should've been picked up hours ago, or waiting to eat, or waiting to do her homework.

She's safe. She's happy. She's with Bella.

Beautiful, perfect Bella.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I ring the doorbell that night, I can hear classical music playing through the closed door before it opens, and I'm greeted by the smile I'm starting to see in all my dreams.

Bella is dressed in yoga pants and a cropped, loose shirt that falls off her shoulder, and I can see the honey-toned skin of her shoulders and midriff. I swear I don't know which look I prefer, this or the dance leotards. Both have also been in my dreams as of late, as well as images of me peeling either outfit off of her body…images of what the rest of her honey skin looks like…dreams of how sweet her skin tastes. The imaginary taste of her skin on my tongue has even managed to push Jack Daniels over as the last thought before I close my eyes.

"Hey, Edward. Come in," she offers, dark eyes sparkling.

"Thanks," I breathe, feeling the familiar inability to form words that I tend to feel around her. But I struggle against it. "Should I…take off my boots?"

"It's up to you," she chuckles.

So I kneel down and take off my boots because she's got a really great place and I don't want to dirty it. It's a large space: about two-thousand square feet, I'd say, with what looks like an extra four hundred square feet in a smaller loft space over the spiral stairs. There are no dividing walls; it's just one big, open loft, and shit, the things I could do here… Don't get me wrong; it's easy to see that she keeps it clean and neat, but as with the dance school, there's not much in the way of fixtures or personal touches.

As I walk further in, I spot Mel in the middle of the living area, dressed in a leotard and one of those dance skirts.

"Hey, Uncle Edward!" she calls out cheerfully.

"When did you get that outfit?"

"Miss Bella gave it to me for our ballet lessons!"

"We were just in the middle of our first one," Bella says behind me.

I turn to face her. "Ballet lessons? I haven't signed Mel up for-"

"They're _informal_," Bella says carefully. "Just she and I fooling around, that's all."

I don't say anything, but I get the feeling we're getting more free stuff from Bella.

"Uhm…Mel and I made rice, black beans and steak for dinner. Would you like some?"

My stomach rumbles because yeah, I can smell the lingering scent of perfectly seasoned steak, but she's already doing so much, and now fucking ballet clothes and lessons…

"Smells great, but I ate something a short while ago." _Bullshit_. "Thanks anyway."

That perfect smile she's been sporting since I walked in seems to falter, but she recovers quickly.

"At least take some home then. You can have it later. I know my Dad tends to get the munchies when he's worked a long day." She gives me a tempting grin, as if all her grins aren't tempting enough.

"Uhm…if you're sure…"

She rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says and walks towards the kitchen. "Mel, just practice first and second position a few more times," she calls out. "I'll be right back."

And I follow her because how can I not when that ass is moving that way?

When we reach the kitchen, she gets on her tip toes to reach one of her cabinets and pulls out a couple of plastic containers while I watch her from the other side of her counter, heart slamming against my ribs because when she reaches up, her shirt rides up even more and I clearly see more honey skin than I've ever seen, including the bottom swell of a delicious-looking breast covered by a black bra and _fuck me…_

"Do you need help?" I manage to choke out.

"No, thanks. I've got it."

So she starts spooning rice into a container, and her ass looks so damn good, and I'm already sporting a semi, so I force myself to look away.

"Those flowers are still alive?" I ask while attempting to focus on something other than how good she looks just _standing_ there.

"Of course they are," she responds. I can hear a smile in her voice. "I told you I wouldn't let them die."

She puts the rice container down and starts filling another one with a few pieces of steak.

"Mel made the rice by herself, and helped me season the steak," she says, completely oblivious to the fact that I'm about to lose my shit over here. "I mean, I supervised, but it was mostly her. I hope you like steak. My grandma taught me how to season it the last time I visited her in Puerto Rico."

"When was the last time you visited her?" I ask, just as an attempt to get the image of her breast and bare torso and black bra and perfect ass out of my head, but fuck if it's working. I'm stiff and still behind the counter, watching Bella close one eye and stare up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"I was thirteen, I think, almost the same age as Mel because you know-"

"She's almost thirteen," we both smirk at exactly the same time - and then start laughing.

"Thirteen is a difficult age for a girl," she says, raising her brows.

"I wouldn't know," I shrug, crossing my arms against my chest.

"No," she chuckles, "I suppose you wouldn't. Girls start thinking about boys and make-up and clothes...What were you doing at thirteen?"

It's the perfect opening. _"I was taking my first drink,"_ I could tell her. _"Which led to another, and then another…"_

"So why didn't you visit your grandmother after that?" I ask instead.

She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she sets the containers down, covering them tightly before looking up at me through dark, captivating eyes, and despite the awkward question she just asked half a minute ago, I'm suddenly consumed by such a sense of…peace, of relaxation; as if somehow, Mel and I are exactly where we belong right now on a Monday night. It may just be the warmth of her apartment, or the delicious scent of home-made food, or how comfortable yet delicious she looks in her yoga pants and little shirt, or just how relaxed she seems herself.

Either way, she leans across the counter, propping herself on her elbows, and gazes at me fully.

"Well…it's a complicated answer. Do you really want to hear this?" she grins impishly.

"Of course I do," I respond. And I mean it. I really want to hear it. I may have started the inquiries as a way to get my mind off of other things, but I realize that I do want to hear her story; I want to hear anything she says.

Her grin widens. "Okay. When I first started going to Puerto Rico as a little girl, it was to visit my mom, Renee."

"Your mom lives in Puerto Rico?"

"She used to. She and my Dad met over there one summer while he was on vacation with a couple of his buddies. She fell in love with the cute, white boy from the big city," Bella smiles, "married him and came back to New York with him."

"What about the language barrier?"

"Well, I was born ten months after they got married, so I've got a feeling they weren't doing much talking."

I chuckle aloud.

"Anyway, after a couple of New York winters, Mami missed her warm and sunny island and decided that maybe marriage and a kid weren't her thing after all."

"So she went back?"

"Yeah," she shrugs. "But though my dad didn't have much family, he's always had good friends. They helped him. He was very…strict with me while I was growing up. I was never left home alone or allowed to go anywhere by myself, or allowed to do much on my own…"

"Unlike what I allow Mel," I nod.

"Everyone's circumstances are different, Edward. Besides, I think it's good that Mel has _some_ freedom, or else…or else she may not know what to do with it once she has it." She swallows thickly and for one moment looks almost ashamed before tearing her dark gaze away from me, dropping her eyes to the counter between us.

"Hey. You okay?" I ask, immediately missing the warmth of her gaze.

Her head snaps back up and she's smiling again, but this smile doesn't seem to completely reach her eyes.

"Sure. Anyway, back to my mom. She and my dad worked it out so that I'd visit her for a couple of weeks a year every summer. Funny thing is that when I'd go, I'd spend more time with my grandmother than with her. When I was ten, she met another white boy-"

"She liked the white boys, huh?" I cut in, surprising myself with the teasing tone of my voice.

She laughs, but her cheeks redden a bit, as if I've embarrassed her somehow.

"Yeah, I suppose she did like the white boys..." she breathes, watching me carefully. "Anyway, this one was from Phoenix, and I guess that climate suited her better. I haven't heard from her since."

"I have one of those."

It takes me a few seconds to realize I've said it aloud. And by the way Bella stares at me, I seem to have surprised her as well.

We're both silent for a couple of minutes, locked in each other's gazes while some classical piece plays on in the background, drowning out our voices.

"How old were you when she left?" she finally murmurs, quietly and carefully as if she's afraid to speak above a whisper.

"Sixteen," I shrug. "So she stayed around a bit longer than yours, but that's probably just because my dad up and left when I was two so she had to stick around for a while by default. And unlike yours, mine seems to prefer colder weather. Last I heard she was up in Alaska somewhere with some cousins."

Again, silence.

"I'm…sorry," she whispers eventually.

"For what?" I snort. "The going got tough, so she left. It's how life is."

Her beautiful eyes hold my gaze full of so much emotion I have to look away because I start feeling…the anger building up, the craving rising into my throat…the need to chase it all away, and just when I think I may explode and say something stupid again, something I won't mean and that I'll regret as soon as it's out of my mouth, my hand is suddenly enveloped in the purest warmth imaginable.

When I look down over the counter, Bella has her small, warm hand wrapped around mine.

"It's not always how life is, Edward. Not everyone leaves when the going gets tough. Look at _you_…"

Slowly, she rounds the counter, never letting go of my hand, never releasing me from her gaze, and when she's right before me, so close that the warmth of her body seeps into my bones, she tilts her head up, searing me with her dark eyes.

"You've stayed, Edward. Regardless of what else is going on in your life, you've stayed for _her_. And that makes you…such a strong and wonderful person."

"…_Does she know what a nasty piece of work you are…"_

She squeezes my hand tightly in hers, so tight it's as if she's squeezing my heart and I've got a strange and vague concern about how rough my knuckles must feel against her smooth palm. How it must chafe her perfect skin, but she keeps squeezing, keeps holding on; grounding me, anchoring me and for one long moment I want to show her more. I want to show her everything inside me. I want to do as Emmett suggested and just lay all the cards on the table, on this counter next to us. I want to let her into this world of mine full of vague memories where demons in bottles rule because maybe…just maybe, _she_ can help me exorcise them.

"…_when you find who fills that space for you, you won't need any of this anymore…"_

"…_you'd just be jeopardizing what sounds like a pretty good set-up for Mel…"_

My head spins. I can barely breathe anymore while my heart hammers in my chest, while she holds my gaze, waiting...

"I…I'd…better get going."

I turn away from her, my chest heaving while the hand I've just pulled out from under hers shakes almost violently.

"Mel's got school tomorrow, and I've got…"

I trail off, unable to speak anymore, unable to think clearly.

"You don't have to leave, Edward."

"I think…right now it's better if I did."

After a few seconds, I hear her release a long, heavy sigh. "Alright, but don't forget your food. Heat it up in the microwave for about two minutes each container. No longer than that because then the food might start popping and get hard, and then it's all just a nasty mess."

Her awkward reheating instructions manage to dispel some of the tension, and we both release a couple of quiet chuckles. I turn around, but can't make myself meet her gaze as I take the two offered plastic containers from her.

"Thanks, Bella. I'll be careful reheating them."

"Good."

I turn back around.

"Edward?"

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to turn around when I hear the plea in her voice, the longing…because she doesn't know. She doesn't _know_.

"Yeah," I say, keeping my back to her like a coward.

She doesn't answer right away.

"I'll see you and Mel on Wednesday, right?"

"Of course, Bella. Where else would I go?"

And then I leave.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Song in my head while writing this chapter: _Bittersweet Symphony_ by The Verve.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all Thursday!**


	11. Chapter 11 - Trying to Understand You

**A/N: Thanks so much for continuing to read and review, guys. I appreciate it so much. Unfortunately, I've been a fail with responding to reviews again. I swear, I'll keep trying, but there haven't been enough hours in the day lately. **

**Anyway, meet me at the end, okay?**

**Betad by my good friend and provider of encouragement when mean people get me down: Michelle Renker Rhodes. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

_**I wanna hid the truth**_

_**I wanna shelter you**_

_**But with the beast inside**_

_**There's nowhere we can hide**_**… Demons by Imagine Dragons**

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Trying to Understand You**

**BPOV**

For the next week or so, the new arrangement with Mel works out pretty seamlessly.

Mel comes to class, and then once her class is done, I leave her a few odds and ends to take care of for me around the studio while Angie, Jake, Jess and I teach the last few classes. By the end of the week, she's got a pretty good handle on what she can do around the place to help.

And now once all classes are done, instead of hanging around the studio waiting for either a late uncle or a late fuck buddy, we head straight to my place.

Back at home, Mel and I eat dinner, she finishes up her homework and then we practice ballet or just dance anything we're in the mood for. Or we just watch TV and hang out.

She hasn't broken down the way she did the other night, but she seems less…angry at the world lately. Sometimes she does tend to get quiet all of a sudden: when a song comes on the radio, or when a show on TV triggers memories of what I can only imagine she's lost. And when that happens, I give her space to feel what she needs to feel, and then I ask her if there's anything she wants to talk about.

"Not right now," is her standard response.

And though I wish she'd open up, I know only too well how difficult it can be to talk about things you'd rather not think of.

So I'll give her the time and space she needs and hope that "not right now" eventually turns to "this is what hurts." And then maybe, I can help take away some of that hurt.

OOOOOOOOO

Edward looks exhausted when he picks up Mel on Wednesday, and I can tell he's had a bad day. His face and arms are absolutely streaked in grime, and as I follow him into the middle of my loft, I've got this wayward image of me taking him into the bathroom, removing his shirt and his pants…stripping him down to his underwear, and then using an immaculately white towel to clean off his face, his arms, his shoulders before watching him step into the steamy, glass shower…

But my daydream doesn't last very long. He's in one of his moods, so he barely speaks, turns down dinner again, and then swiftly ushers out Mel, only quickly meeting my gaze before mumbling a hurried "thanks" and walking out.

OOOOOOOOOO

On Friday, Mel and I are upstairs in the storage loft trying out old costumes from the last couple of recitals when my phone rings.

"I'll be right back!" I yell out. As I run down the spiral staircase, the feathers from my head piece flop into my face while the sequins around my flapper-girl skirt slap against my legs.

I check the Caller ID quickly before answering.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, Hon. What's going on?"

"Not much. And you?"

"Same old, same old. I figured I'd call you or else the year would end before I spoke to you."

I grimace. "Dad…sorry, I've just been really busy."

"You just said there's not much going on. So which is it? Not much going on, or have you been really busy?"

I sigh. "You missed your calling, Dad. You should've been a lawyer."

He chuckles. "Nah, never been much suits. Hard hats and tools have always been more my thing."

I laugh, but my mind suddenly goes to Edward, wondering what exactly he looks like in a hard hat...

We make small talk for a short while. He tells me he's been busy as well. The site he's been working on has had a couple of snags, and they almost had a major setback this week, but it worked out in the end.

"So what have you been doing, Bells?"

"Well, I had an audition a couple of weeks ago…"

"Yeah? How did it go?"

My silence is his answer.

He sighs "You'll get there, Bells."

"Yeah. I just found out about another audition for this production here in Brooklyn…anyway, can I call you back, Dad? I'm in the middle of something."

"What are you in the middle of that's more important than speaking to your Dad?"

"I'm watching a friend's…kid."

"Don't tell me Angie's gone and had a kid?"

"Dad, you saw her like a month ago. Did she look pregnant to you?"

"I don't know about these things," he mutters. "Alright, so, come see your old man soon, okay? I'm not working too far away. We can have a quick lunch together."

"I'll see, Dad…"

"Call me during the week, okay? I miss my sweet, little girl."

"Alright, Dad," I agree quietly. "I'll call you."

After we hang up, I stare off into space while the phone remains clutched in my hand, wondering what Charlie would do if he ever knew the truth about his sweet, little girl…the truth about why I don't want to go see him at work…

"Miss Bella?"

I blink out of my stupor and turn around to see Mel behind me, dressed like a very glittery cat.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yeah," I grin. "It's just that my Dad's really good at making me feel guilty sometimes."

She just stares at me. "My dad never made me feel guilty about anything. Mom used to say he was the mellowest guy to have ever been born."

It's the first time she's ever voluntarily mentioned her parents.

"He sounds like he was a great guy."

Mel simply nods; the glitter that's rubbed off of her costume makes her face sparkle and glow.

"He was a great Dad."

I approach her warily, as if she really is a little kitten that'll jump at the first sign of provocation. Like Edward did the other night in the kitchen.

"And your mom?" I ask softly, adjusting the kitten-ears headband around her head. "What was she like?"

She doesn't answer right away. Her eyes move beyond me, seeing something that's no longer there, and just as I think I've gotten all I'm going to get tonight, she says,

"My mom was beautiful, just as pretty as you are. She was shorter though. She smiled all the time. And she told these silly jokes that would make my dad roll his eyes because they were never funny, but then he'd laugh at them anyway and I never understood why. She had long, dark hair like you."

"And like you," I smile.

She only manages a faint twitch of the lips. "I have her eyes too, but I think hers were prettier. I'm not sure. It's getting…hard for me to remember…"

"You can look at pictures," I remind her gently.

She looks down at the floor. "I'm going to change this costume. It's stupid."

And she runs back up the stairs.

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time Edward arrives that night, Mel's momentarily bad mood has disappeared.

Thankfully, her uncle also appears to be in a bit of a better mood than he was on Wednesday. When he turns down dinner this time, he offers me an apologetic grin.

"I'm not poisoning the food, Edward," I smirk, raising a brow.

He laughs. He actually laughs, and God, he's just…wondrous when he laughs. His green eyes sparkle, and his lips turn up in something other than a scowl, and this deep, beautiful, booming noise rumbles deep in his chest.

And Mel laughs too, so I feel like I'm on a roll here; like I must've done something good today.

"She's really not poisoning it, Uncle Edward. I helped her make it, so I should know."

She's thrown over the couch, looking relaxed while watching TV, and despite the fact that she's only been with me for a week, she already looks like she belongs there.

And Edward's work boots look so comfy by the door over there.

"Should you?" Edward smirks at her. "Hmmm, well then…maybe I should try this concoction."

My heart leaps, and I can't help the huge grin that erupts. God, I'm sure my fascination with him is written all over my face, and I don't care one little bit anymore.

"Come on!" I urge him on, heading towards the kitchen.

"Uh…do you mind if I wash up a bit?" I hear him ask.

"Oh." I stop, and turn around. He holds up his hands for me to see the dirt and grime.

He does look dirty…and so _strong_.

"The bathroom's right over there. There are towels in the cabinet under the sink if you want to clean yourself off." I'm about to offer him the use of my shower, but Mel's here, and something about voicing that offer aloud in front of her seems…illicit.

But Mel or not, my daydream suddenly returns and I see myself with a white towel…cleaning off Edward…removing all the dirt from his chiseled face…erasing the grime from his strong shoulders…washing his soft, silky hair…

"Thanks," he murmurs, eyes firmly on mine as if he can somehow read my thoughts. We're half a room apart, but suddenly it's as we're chest to chest and I can almost feel his heart beating next to mine. I can't look away while he holds my gaze; while Mel lays over the couch between us, quietly watching TV.

"Alright, I'm going to go clean up."

"Alright, I'll go get a plate ready for you."

"Okay."

"Okay."

I'm not sure how much time passes before he turns around and I finally walk into the kitchen, quietly reminding myself to, "Breathe, Bella. Breathe."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward is sitting on my kitchen stool, in his black socks, hands and face cleaner than I've ever seen them. The striking green eyes are even more prominent when his face is clean, sparkling like two emeralds from between a ruggedly beautiful face. The motion of his angular jaw as he chews his chicken has me hypnotized…up and down and I know I shouldn't be staring, but…

So he's eating his yellow rice and stewed chicken, and he fucking _moans_…he moans after every other bite or so, while my I try not to drool because I'm afraid it wouldn't be very appetizing to look at, and he's obviously really enjoying my meal…his meal.

"Mm mm, oh my God, Bella, this is…"

He doesn't manage to finish the sentence before shoving another forkful between that perfect mouth of his while I happily sit next to him.

In between forkfuls, he's telling me about his boss and buddy, Emmett, and I'm absorbing every detail of information like a woman who's been through the desert and has finally found a small, sparkly oasis full of the most dazzlingly delicious water.

"So what exactly are you working on, Edward?" I ask excitedly.

He stops eating and sets his fork down, sitting back while he holds my gaze steadily for a few seconds.

"We're converting an old warehouse into residential lofts."

He says this solemnly, green, green eyes piercing, studying me as if he's waiting for some sort of reaction.

"Oh yeah? There's so much of that going on here in Brooklyn, isn't there?"

His eyes hold me captive for a few more seconds, and then with a deep sigh, he says, "Yeah. Yeah, there is." And then he grins and returns to his food.

"You seem… a lot more relaxed today than you did on Wednesday."

He looks up at me again, holding my gaze yet again but no longer with that strange intensity. "I've been hearing that a lot lately," he grins, and I wonder if he knows that every single time he's grinned tonight, he's stopped my heart.

"Yeah? Why have you been hearing that?" I smile.

He smirks, again watching me as if I should know the answer. Instead of responding though, he slowly allows his eyes to leave mine, slowly sweeping them up and down my body and raising every single goose bump on every single surface.

"That's an interesting outfit," he says, quirking a brow. "Are you going dancing tonight, Bella?"

I look down at my flapper costume - black, sequined, fringe dress and a black headband with a feather sticking out of it – and laugh.

"Does this really look like something I'd wear to go dancing?"

"Why not? You look…" – he exhales heavily – "amazing."

My cheeks absolutely flame; I mean I can feel them burning, but in such a delicious way. I look down at the space between us for one long moment, watching my chest heave with hopeful excitement.

"Thanks," I murmur when I meet his eyes again, grinning like a fool. "But it's just a recital costume. Mel and I were fooling around."

"Oh," he mouths. "So if that's not an actual club outfit, what do you wear when you go dancing then?"

"I…haven't really been dancing in a while," I admit.

"But you're a dancer," he snorts. "How come a dancer hasn't been dancing in a while?"

"Well…"

I can feel my heart rate speeding up, my face burning again, but no longer from excitement; this time it's from fear that he'll see. That if he keeps looking at me he'll read the truth in my eyes and not only will all this suddenly stop, but he'll take Mel away.

So I drop my eyes again, ashamed now instead of thrilled.

"It's…it's just…" I stutter, "I need a break. I need to…" I sigh and force myself to look up.

He's watching me with such a soft and tender expression of concern on his face; and patience, and somehow, his anxious eyes give me the strength to offer him some sort of explanation.

"Have you ever felt like…you were going about things all wrong, but you're not sure what the right way is, and you just need some time to figure it all out?"

He furrows his dark brows, searching my eyes questioningly, yet I force myself to hold his gaze.

"Yeah," he finally smirks, exhaling heavily. "I definitely know about that, Bella."

For some reason, I wave of relief soars through me. "Well I need to figure some stuff out. And until then…until then…"

"Until then…no dancing?" Half of his mouth crooks up in a bemused partial grin.

"No dancing," I agree with a relieved smile. "At least, no extra-curricular dancing."

We both chuckle, and he nods thoughtfully, but now I'm afraid that I've ruined the mood.

"A dancer that doesn't go dancing," he muses quietly, shaking his head. "Bella Swan…you're an enigma," he accuses - but he grins so fully as he says it that I know he's teasing, and again, I'm flooded with relief.

"_I'm_ an enigma!" I retort, and then put a hand out to shake his mockingly. "Hey, Pot, I'm Kettle!"

He chuckles and stares down at my hand for half a beat before taking it. I've got to fight to suppress the gasp that wants to escape when he envelops my hand so completely, sliding his long, strong fingers along mine, lacing them together. We stare down at our hands, strong and fragile, rough and softer, and all I can think of is that this is how this began…whatever this is…with a simple handshake.

Then Edward grins and releases my hand slowly, returning to his food.

"So you still haven't finished telling me why you seem so relaxed tonight," I wonder aloud, trying to compose myself.

Edward gives me a sidelong glance, taking a bite of his food and chewing it thoroughly, his Adams apple bobbing up and down. Once he swallows, he angles himself sideways.

"I'm more relaxed tonight because it's been a good week, despite a…problem I had to deal with a couple of days ago. But it worked out fine, and we actually managed to finish up something big at work today that might be really productive for business. So all in all, it's been a good few days."

"That's great!" I exclaim, genuinely thrilled because I can tell how much this means to him.

"Yeah," he says softly, his green eyes warm and…more peaceful than I've ever seen them, "it really is great."

My heart goes pitter patter.

"Well, we've got to celebrate!"

He chuckles. "What do you suggest?"

I jump up and turn around, rushing to the fridge and rummaging around a bit for the half empty bottle that Angie and I failed to finish early last week.

"Aha! Here it is! Now, it's wine instead of champagne," I giggle, "and I know you're driving, but we'll just have a small, celebratory sip."

I pull out the bottle and quickly set it on the counter in front of Edward before turning back around to the cabinets. Angie and I went ghetto and just sipped it out of plastic cups the other night, but this is Edward, and he had a good week. So I search past the stacked plates and the glass tumblers until I find the long-stemmed, crystal wine glasses I haven't used in a while. They clink against each other as I pull them out, sending butterflies fluttering deep in my stomach as I picture Edward and I toasting together, clinking my glass against his… holding his gaze over the glass rim…

"I hope you like this bottle. It has a nice, sweet taste that stays on your palate…"

I turn around with a wide grin, my excitement for the evening building-

But Edward is no longer there.

"Edward?"

Holding the two sparkly, wine goblets close to my chest, I walk out of the kitchen and into the living area. The fringe from my flapper dress swooshes back and forth against my legs.

"Edward?"

Edward is standing over Mel, telling her to get up – right now.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, yeah," he assures me, facing Mel. "It was just a long day, and I'd like to get home and relax. Come on, Mel, speed it up," he says.

"Coming, coming!" Mel says, leaning over the couch to get her sneakers on.

"Thanks for dinner, Bella," Edward says coolly, his back still to me. "It was great. And thanks for watching Mel."

"Uhm…okay…" I feel a sense of dread all of a sudden because Edward won't _look_ at me, and I thought we were past that. "Actually, I was wondering if you guys wanted to hang out tonight and watch a movie. We could get something on demand, or on Netflix."

"Ooh, can we, Uncle Ed?" Mel says, pausing in her sneaker-tying to give her uncle a pleading look.

"Like I said," he shakes his head, "it was a long day, but thanks for the offer. Hurry up, Mel."

"Okay, okay." Mel grumbles before getting up. She walks over and wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight. "Thanks so much, Miss Bella. I've had such a great week!"

"I've had a great week with you too, Mel," I murmur, trying not to let Edward's sudden change affect my parting with Mel, but my mind is in bewildered chaos. He stands behind us practically vibrating with his need to get away and all I can imagine is that he saw the real me. In that one moment when I let my guard down, he saw the truth, and he's completely disgusted now.

"Like I told you earlier, Mel," I say, trying to keep my voice calm, "just call me Bella when we're not at the studio, okay?"

"Okay, Bella," she grins, clearly thrilled. I try my best to return her happy smile before she hugs me tight one more time and then walks to the door, stepping out into the hallway.

Edward finally turns to face me, but his eyes won't meet mine.

"Edward, did I say something wrong?"

"What? No, No," he assures me. "Look, thanks so much for all your help this week. I really appreciate it."

And he turns to leave.

"Edward-" I say following him to the door, but he won't stop. "Edward, tell me what I said or did."

"_You_ didn't say or do anything, Bella," he repeats, almost growls as he sticks his feet quickly back into his boots. Boots I was hoping would've rested in that corner for at least a couple of hours more. My heart clenches tightly as I watch him. "You're…perfect is what you are. Just god damn perfect."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown wildly, gripping the top of my hair and tearing the fucking feather out of my head. "Why are you rushing out? Edward?"

"Good night, Bella," he turns to the door, and I grab his arm because I'm not letting him storm out on me, but he whips around so quickly that I gasp aloud, taking a step back as he slides his rough hands around my face, cradling it tightly; so tight it almost hurts. Almost.

"Look," he breathes, "you will never know how much all this means to me…and to Mel. She obviously worships you, and you deserve it. You deserve to be worshiped night and day. I'm grateful for all the care you obviously give her, and for the job you've given her, and for the ballet lessons and the ballet costume, and for the god damn delicious dinners for the both of us, and it's all more than I'll ever be able to repay you for. So please, let me leave with at least a modicum of my pride intact."

I wrap my hands over his, squeezing him as tightly as he's squeezing me.

"Christ, Edward, when the hell did I ever ask you to repay me? I don't care about any of that! I don't want or need you to repay-"

"Bella…" he says in a pained whisper, stroking my cheeks carefully with his thumbs. And I can't help it. Despite his words, despite the fact that I know that regardless of how tightly he's holding on, what he's really doing is pushing me away, I lean into his touch. I close my eyes momentarily and revel in the feel of his callused thumbs over my skin.

"Bella, I know you don't need me to repay you. I know you don't need it, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve it. You deserve so much more…" he says roughly, squeezing his eyes shut for two seconds, "so much more than I'd ever be able to give you, Bella, so please just…" - he lifts a hand off my face to rake it angrily through his hair while I look on at him, stunned beyond comprehension – and then he places it over my chest, over my racing heart – "let's just keep this the way it is. You help me out with Mel out of the kindness of your beautiful heart, and I accept that help because I'm a selfish bastard. Goodbye."

And despite it all, despite _everything_, he turns and walks out.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Chica, I don't even know what to tell you at this point," Angie says when I relay the latest events to her the next day. "Maybe he's bipolar?"

I smirk at her. "No, I don't think he's bipolar. I'm pretty sure even bipolar sufferers give you some sort of warning before they go from zero to one-twenty."

"Yeah, I think you're right," she agrees.

"I just…I don't even know where it went wrong! One minute he's talking to me…I mean, _really_ talking to me; we were even flirting a bit. And he's telling me about work, and his friend, Emmett, and he's happy cuz he finished up some project on time. Then I turn to get something, and by the time I turn back around, he's morphed into Bizarro Edward. I don't…" – I let out a huge breath of frustration – "I don't even know what to do anymore."

"Hey…" Angie puts an arm around me. "Well, he's still going to bring Mellie around, right?"

"Yeah," I say quietly because I'm afraid if I speak any louder I'll start screaming. "Thank God."

Angie is quiet for a while. "She's really important to you."

It's not a question, so I don't bother answering.

"Ay, Bellita," Angie sighs after a while. "You've gotten yourself so deep into this…"

"Yeah…" I dig my hands into my scalp and grip hard while she looks at me thoughtfully, biting her lip, and I think I see some wheels turning, which is really dangerous when it comes to Angie.

"You know what? Fuck it! I hate to say it, because I was the first proponent to hooking you up with Papi Chulo, but I'm thinking that maybe it's time to cut your losses here."

"What?' I ask because I really wasn't expecting that. She's been all gung ho Papi Chulo for weeks now.

"I mean Bella, maybe you're just not meant to find out what Papi Chulo's deal is. He keeps pushing you away and pushing you away and maybe it's just time to…let him. You, Isabella Maria Swan, are one hot chick, and you don't need that shit. What you need is to get out there again, to live your own life again. The shit with Eli totally did a number on you, and now this shit with Papi Chulo is bringing you down even more. You need to say fuck you to both of them, and get on with it!"

"Angie…I'm not so sure I-"

"No! Don't Angie me, damn it! I'm glad you feel so close to Mel, but you have a life too, Bella! At least you should. You're gorgeous and single and you need to live again! I'm setting you up with Tyler's friend!"

"Angie, no! I don't think-"

"No, you don't think, not about yourself and that's your problem. Look," she dips her head and meets my gaze, eye to eye, "I'm not saying you have to go out and fall in love or even fuck the next guy you have dinner with, but shit Bella, go out and have _fun_ again! You're _twenty-four_ Bella, not forty! Meet people again! Live your life! Who knows? Maybe while you're living again, things will fall into place."

I look at her skeptically because right now it just doesn't feel as if anything is ever going to fall into place.

"Tyler's friend is a nice guy, Bella. Just go and have a nice dinner with him, that's all. You might actually enjoy yourself," she grins. "So what do you say? Should I set it up?"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Wait! Before you come at me with pitchforks, stay tuned for next week…there may actually be a method to my madness, and you may actually enjoy it…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page, where my readers discuss how much they may or may not want to kill me right now, and I provide teasers to keep everyone calm. :)**

**Have a nice weekend. :)**


	12. Chapter 12 - She's going on a what?

**A/N: Long-ass chapter up a head. Seriously, pack a lunch. ;)**

**Thanks to Michelle Renker Rhodes for being so patient with my never-ending changes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 12 – She's going on a what?**

**EPOV**

"_Aha! Here it is! Now, it's wine instead of champagne," she giggles, "and I know you're driving, but we'll just have a small, celebratory sip."_

"_Bella-"_

_She turns around and places the half-empty red wine bottle right in front of me and then turns back around, rummaging through her cabinets while I stare at the bottle._

"_I hope you like this bottle. It has a nice, sweet taste that stays on your palate…"_

"_Actually, Bella, I don't drink."_

"_You don't?" she asks, cocking her head to the side._

"_No. I'm a…recovering alcoholic. I've been sober for almost eight months now."_

"_Oh. Wow. What made you stop drinking?"_

"_Mel's parents, my brother and sister-in-law, they were killed by a drunk driver."_

"_Oh my God, I'm so sorry." _

_Her dark eyes fill with pain. She sets the wine goblets down, taking the few steps to me and straddling my lap so that her short dress rides up high over her honey thighs, and I can't resist them anymore. My rough hands stroke her smooth skin while she wraps her arms around my neck, chocolate eyes locking me in her bottomless gaze, beautiful breasts heaving against my chest. Eyes still on one another, I snake my hands around her hips, pulling her closer, so close that I feel the heat between her legs, right there. Our heated breaths mingle together, but then she slowly ghosts her mouth across my face, to my ear._

"_I understand, Edward," she breathes. "Of course I understand. And it's okay. I'm here now, and everything's going to be-"_

"Edward?"

I'm lying across my couch in that hazy in-between world of half-thoughts and strange dreams, not entirely awake. Yet my consciousness isn't drifting enough where I fail to hear my sister's voice - or where I can finally put an end to thoughts of the other night and the fucked up way I left things with Bella, yet again.

"Edward!"

"Yeah?" I respond drowsily.

"I was asking how the new set-up with Mel is going. Is it working out okay?" Rose whispers.

It's Sunday afternoon, and she and her kids have been here for a few hours. I wonder what the fuck Royce is doing while his family spends the day here without him. Sighing, I open my eyes and search for Mel, finding her in the kitchen and busy by the stove.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's working out fine."

"Are you sure? Because I can pick her up this week for you if you need me to."

"She's fine, Rose. Ask Mel yourself if you don't believe me."

"I did," Rose mutters. "She gave me the same vague answer you just gave me."

"What more do you want?"

"For starters, I'd just like some more info on this dance teacher. I want to make sure she's someone that my niece is safe with."

My impatience growing, I sit up straight and glare at Rose while she tries to feed little Leah, who has her tiny lips pressed tightly together.

"She's more than safe with Bella, Rose. She's teaching Mel a bunch of stuff: ballet, _manners," _I stress, my tone probably a bit rougher than I mean it to be because remembering Friday…fuck…remembering Friday is killing me.

The wine.

The fucking wine.

"She's friggin…" I jerk my chin towards the kitchen, "_laughing_ again_._ Trust me. Mel is fine!"

"Alright, alright," Rose says defensively. "Calm down! I just wanted to make sure. You are going back to your AA meetings now that you've got that stuff done at work, right? Because you sure sound like you need to go."

_Jesus, give me serenity fucking now with this woman._

"Yes, I'm going back. That was always the plan."

"Good because you need to keep up with those meetings. And make sure that from now on, Emmett knows that you need to make it out of work on time for those-"

"Rose, we aren't all used car salesmen like your husband." Her eyes flare, but just then, the doorbell rings. "And if you've got anything to tell Em, you can tell him yourself. He's coming over to watch the game." I get up and walk to the door, pulling my drill out of Seth's hands carefully as I go.

"Emmett's here? You should've told me he was coming over," Rose hisses.

When I look over at her, she's smoothing down her hair, wiping under and around her eyes, picking what looks like mashed peas off her shirt.

As un-fucking-believably annoying as she is, I can admit that my sister is…pretty; she's probably even beautiful, I suppose like our mother was...or is; whatever. She's tall with long, blond hair and blue eyes. Good skin, I guess. I mean, yeah, I'm her brother, but I can appreciate the fact that she's not bad to look at. The thing is, she always looks so…tired, so resigned, as if she's just…given up. Fucking Royce.

"That's right, you and Emmett dated for a while didn't you?" I nod musingly, vaguely recollecting their short-lived romance years ago. "So what's the deal, Big Sis? You still got a thing for Em?"

"No, you idiot!" she snaps. "But that doesn't mean I like looking like shit in front of him! And watch what you say in front of the kids," she whispers violently.

I chuckle quietly and unlatch the door when Emmett pounds on it.

"Don't worry, Sis," I whisper with a quick, conspiratorial wink, "you still look good. Em'll be sporting a tent with your name-"

"_Ugh! Shut the hell up!"_ she whisper-screeches, and I snicker in satisfaction.

Emmett bounds in carrying a couple of liters of Coke and a box from White Castle.

"Who's ready for the game?" He holds up his offerings. "I've got dinner and dessert!"

I snort and move away to make room for him to pass.

"Oh, hey Rose, how've you been? I haven't seen you since…"

Emmett trails off, but we all remember the last time we were all together in a room, almost eight months ago.

"Hey, Emmett," Rose answers. "I've been good, thanks."

There's silence for a couple of seconds, but then Mel walks in from the kitchen carrying a big serving bowl.

"Dinner's ready!"

"When did you learn to cook?" Rose asks.

"Bella's been teaching me," Mel grins.

"Hah! She's cooking too!" I retort smugly, earning weird looks from both Rose and Emmett.

OOOOOOOOO

Carlisle hands me a cup of coffee, black and strong. We're in the middle of a break during Monday night's meeting.

"Glad you're back at the meetings, Edward. How's everything going?"

I lean forward in my metal fold-up chair, spreading my legs and resting my elbows over each as I take a burning sip of coffee, trying to organize all the shit in my head.

I haven't spoken to Bella since the royal fuckery that occurred Friday night at her place. So I never got around to telling her that I wouldn't actually be working late tonight – or for the rest of the week. I know I should have told her, but things had been going so well. We were talking, laughing, I was eating what was probably the most delicious homemade dinner of my life, and for once…for once I wasn't fucking things up with her. I wasn't putting my foot in my mouth. I felt calm; I felt relaxed. I felt like maybe…just maybe…

And then she pulled out the wine…and the words were right there...

"_I don't drink."_

"_I __**can't**__ drink."_

"_I'm an alcoholic."_

"_I'm the same kind of garbage that killed my brother and sister-in-law."_

But the words never came; instead I found myself fucking things up…once again.

"Rose is getting on my nerves as usual," I say, because I'm not ready to talk about Bella. "She implies that I'm not doing what I need to do in regards to Mel and disguising it all as wanting to help."

"Perhaps she is trying to help, Edward," Carlisle offers, "but doesn't know exactly how."

"Yeah, I already told her that Mel's dance teacher, Bella, will be watching Mel after class until I can pick her up. She's great with her, and Mel's learning so much, and not just about dance. She cooked dinner last night! Anyway, back to Rose; sometimes it feels like she's just…trying to take over; like she's still bothered by the fact that they left Mel to me, not to her."

"Mm," Carlisle grunts. "Edward, your brother and his wife made their wishes perfectly clear, and it's up to Rosalie to accept that. You can't allow her issues with their decision to affect your outlook or reaction to that decision. Does that make sense?"

"I'm trying not to let it affect me; believe me, I'm trying."

"Well that's all we can do, Edward, is try, one day at a time."

I nod slowly, staring into my hot coffee as the steam swirls up in the air and into my nostrils. I take a few more sips, feeling it burn its way down my throat.

"And how's work? You were able to get that redo project completed, correct?"

"Yeah, and Bella watching Mel for me was a great help. - helped me focus on what I needed to do. She's just…anyway…yeah…work. There's this guy…one of the owners…" I sneer.

"What about him?"

"He's the reason we had to redo the piping, and then this week, he tried to get it switched back."

"And what happened with that?"

I glare down at my coffee cup. "Emmett got our head contractor involved, who arrived early the next day and spoke to the owners. A short while later we received instructions to proceed with the plans currently in place."

"Sounds like the head contractor has a solid head on his shoulders."

"Yeah. I haven't spoken directly to him because he deals with Emmett, but I guess he's a fair guy. Otherwise, I was a heartbeat away from beating the shit out of…" I shake my head.

"Edward," Carlisle says in a firm tone, "you know that there are plenty of reasons why taking matters into your own hands wouldn't have been a good idea, right?"

"I know," I mutter. "Because I need my job, and because for Mel's sake, I can't start trouble." _And because I have no idea how Bella would react to my bashing in the guy's face. _"I resisted the urge, Carlisle."

"I'm glad to see you did, Edward. That's a big step: learning to control our impulses, our urges."

I nod thoughtfully.

"I also take it you made amends with Mel's dance teacher. You've mentioned her…quite a bit in the past couple of weeks."

I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes for two seconds. "Yeah, I made amends."

"From what I'm hearing, it sounds like she's taken on an important role in Mel's life?"

"She has," I say quietly. "She's become…very important."

He's silent for a while.

"It sounds like she may be…important to you as well."

I don't answer right away, and then I snort. "But I know that the timing is wrong, and I know that I have absolutely nothing to offer her, and it's all just…" Angrily, I pitch the cup of coffee a few feet across and straight into the garbage, watching a few drops splatter over the rim. "It's fucked is what it is."

I feel Carlisle's eyes on me. "Edward, I concur that the timing may not be right, but as for what you have to offer her…I'm not sure if you mean materially or emotionally…"

"Both," I sneer.

"That may not always be the case with either of those things," he says. "As you've said yourself, things at work are changing, and as for what you have to offer emotionally, you've come a long way, Edward, in the past few months, even in the past few weeks. I think once you've gotten your head on straight, once you're at a place where you can stop and see yourself clearly, really see yourself, then you'll realize that you have more to give than you can imagine."

OOOOOOOOOO

I have no idea what to expect when I arrive at Bella's loft that evening. She'd have every right to have Mel waiting by the door and simply usher her out the second I ring the doorbell.

But she won't do that - not Bella.

So I'm momentarily relieved when the door opens, and I'm greeted with the smile that replays itself in my dreams every, single god damn night – until I realize that it's not exactly the same smile.

The smile in my dreams is warm and inviting, full of tenderness, full of life, and still somehow…sensuous. Though I know I don't deserve it, in the past couple of weeks, I've come to see it as a private smile – meant just for me.

This smile is cool and composed; it's how I imagine she smiles at every parent of every child who attends her dance school.

"Hey, Edward, come in."

"Thanks," I say, masking my mental uproar with my own serene smile while my heart races, and I follow her, noting the hoodie she's got wrapped tightly around herself, hiding her skin. It's…suffocating.

I stop to take off my boots the way I usually do.

"Would you like something to eat?" she offers, just as she always does.

"I'm okay, thanks."

"Alright," she says calmly, still smiling. "Mel's going to take some food home with her for lunch tomorrow, so I'll just send some extra in case you change your mind."

I hold her gaze, and for one moment, I want to drop to my knees in front of her, beg her to forgive me for being such an asshole, and plead for one of her real smiles…for anything.

But then I remind myself that this is for the best. This is exactly what I asked of her; to be Mel's teacher, her caretaker, her friend – and nothing more because the man deep inside, the one beneath the demons hidden in there knows that she deserves better. She deserves so much more.

Bella blinks and looks away, and I force myself to turn away too.

"Mel, are you ready?" She's up in the small loft where she seems to enjoy spending time.

"Coming, Uncle Ed!"

While she gathers her stuff together, Bella and I stand silently and awkwardly side-by-side. And when Mel finally comes down, she gives Bella a hug, thanks her for everything and walks to the door.

I rake a hand through my hair. "Alright, well, thanks for watching her."

"My pleasure," she smiles.

"I guess I'll see you Wednesday."

"Alright, Edward."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

OOOOOOOOOO

Late Wednesday afternoon while I'm in the middle of sawing up two-by-fours, my phone starts vibrating. I suck my teeth in frustration, but it might be from Mel…or Bella, though I really don't expect it to be her, so when I quickly pull the phone out and see that it is indeed Bella, I breathe out a low oath because I'm not sure what to think.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Edward. Sorry to bother you at work." Before I can say anything, she launches right in. "Your sister, Rosalie, is here to take Mel home after class. I told her I needed to speak with you first."

"_What_?"

"Edward, in the future, please let me know when you're going to have someone pick up Mel early. It's difficult to-"

"Bella, I haven't asked my sister to pick Mel up!"

"So you didn't send her?" she asks coolly.

"No!"

Bella is silent for a few seconds. "I thought…well because of how things-" - she sighs - "Alright, then. What would you like me to do?" she asks, her voice calm and professional. "Would you like to speak with your sister?"

"Yes, please," I snarl through clenched teeth, raking a hand full of sawdust through my hair.

"Alright, hold on."

The next thing I hear is Rose's voice on the line. "Yeah?"

"What the _hell_ are you doing there?" I growl.

"I just wanted to check things out for myself," Rose whispers back defensively.

"Well, you've checked it out. Now you need to leave. Mel is fine with Bella. I told you that."

"I figured since I was already here, I might as well take Mel home and save you the trip."

"Rose!" I close my eyes and attempt to steady my breathing. "Rose, get this through your thick head. _I_ am responsible for Mel, alright? I'm sorry if you're having a hard time accepting that, but it's how it is. Now Bella and I have already worked out Mel's schedule. It's set. She's exactly where she's supposed to be right now."

"I was just trying to help!"

"And I appreciate it," I grit. "But you're interfering in a routine that Bella and I have already established for Melody, and in the process making _Bella's_ job more difficult. Now when I'm ready, _I'll_ pick Mel up. Like I said, Bella and I have worked it out."

She's silent for a few seconds, and then says, "Fine, I'll go home."

"Drive carefully."

"Goodbye, Edward!"

"Goodbye Rose."

OOOOOOOOOO

After that, there's a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach that only intensifies as the hours pass. Throughout my meeting, I tell myself, I _remind_ myself that this is all for the best, that Bella isn't meant for me. That someone so perfect could never be a reward for a drunken asshole like me.

Yet despite the constant reminders, standing outside her door every other night, waiting for her to open is the highlight of my evening.

Bella greets me much the same way she did on Monday: full of friendly smiles because she's sunshine personified mixed in with those roses I bought her yet a thousand times better. She's honey and wine.

She's _life_ personified.

So she smiles at me and offers me dinner, and when I turn it down, she says she's packed some extra – just in case. And while Mel gets her stuff together up in the small loft, we both turn towards each other at the same time.

"Look, Bella, I just wanted to-"

"Edward, I wanted to-"

"I'm sorry; go ahead," I say.

"I just wanted to ask you if Mel is still going to be staying with me after classes."

"Of course she is." I frown. "I mean, if it's still okay with you."

"Of course it's okay with me," she says quickly. "It's more than okay. It's just that after this afternoon, I wasn't sure."

"Look," I breathe, "I had no idea my sister was going to show up today. I never asked her to do so."

"It's no problem," she shakes her head vehemently. "I just wanted to double check."

And then she turns those beautifully dark eyes away from me once more, and I know I should let her avoid my gaze. I really should. If I wasn't such a selfish bastard...

But I am, so I cock my head sideways and force myself into her field of vision, yet when she looks my way, the dark, bottomless eyes that were so open and becoming so familiar are now strangely guarded.

"We've still got an agreement, right?" I ask.

"Yeah," she smiles faintly. "We have an agreement; though, I wanted to talk to you about Friday."

"What about Friday?"

"Well, I've got…plans for Friday, so I won't be able to bring Mel home with me. But I've spoken to Angie," she says reassuringly, "and Mel can stay with her after class, until you can pick her up. Okay?"

"Uh…" I take a deep breath and release it slowly, that nauseous sensation in the pit of my stomach returning. "Actually, I have to pick Mel up early on Friday because she's going with her grandparents for the weekend. I think I mentioned that to you once."

"Yeah, you did," she nods. "Okay, then. It should work out well."

"Alright. Thanks for making those arrangements."

"Of course. I would never leave you or Mel up in the air, Edward. I hope you know that by now."

And finally, there's that voice - that sweet, tender voice. Her eyes soften too, and for one split second, I can see into them so deeply; it's as if I'm drowning inside her.

"I'm ready," Mel says, suddenly before us.

Bella blinks and turns away from me. "Alright, Mel, I'll see you Friday, okay?"

Mel nods and smiles, but she seems a bit withdrawn as she walks away.

"Alright, well, thanks again," I say.

"No problem," Bella smiles.

OOOOOOOOOO

Bella's words, her guarded expressions, her cool smiles all replay in an endless loop on the ride home. My head pounds; I need a smoke bad, but Mel's in the car.

"_I've got plans for Friday…"_

This is what I wanted, isn't it? This is basically what I told her on Friday. We need to keep things the way they are; she's Mel's dance teacher, and she helps me out of the kindness of her heart. That's it. I've got nothing else to offer her.

"_I've got plans for Friday…"_

"Uncle Ed, are you in love with Bella?"

I swerve quickly to avoid side swiping the black sedan to my right. Once I've got the truck under control, I glance over at Mel – who's openly smirking at me.

"I guess that answers that question."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter.

"Oh please! I'm not blind or stupid, Uncle Edward! I see the way you look at her, and I see the way she looks at you!"

"Mel, I'm not discussing this with a twelve-year-"

"I'm almost thirteen!"

"Whatever, I'm not discussing this with you."

"Why not?" she huffs, and out of the corner of one eye, I see her crossing her arms against her chest. "You are, aren't you?"

I don't answer her.

"She's got a date for Friday you know."

I suck in a sharp breath of air, unable to hold back the harsh "_FUCK!_" that escapes this time, all while quickly breaking to avoid rear-ending the U-Haul truck in front of us.

"Damn it, Mel!"

"Sorry! But what do you care if you don't love her? Uncle Ed, you've seriously gotta step up your game here! You can't let her go on-"

"Mel!" I try desperately to reign in the sudden fury, the frenzy threatening to undo me while blood pounds wildly between my ears. A date.

A date.

I guess I figured that much, but…

A fucking date.

"First of all, love is a very strong word, Mel, so stop throwing it around that way. Second, it's not as easy as stepping up my game," I say through clenched teeth. "You want to be spoken to like an adult, fine. You know better than most how complicated things are for me…for _us_ right now. Miss Bella- _Bella_ is doing us a huge favor, and there's no point in my complicating things even further for her. Besides, let's say for argument's sake that I did have certain…feelings, and let's say that she had some sort of feelings as well, and let's say we acted on those possible feelings and things didn't work out. Where would that leave you?" I glance over at her for two seconds, and her blue eyes meet mine.

She glares down at her lap, and I move my eyes back to the windshield.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she mutters after a while and then turns her head to stare out of the passenger side window.

And for the rest of the drive home, I simply try to breathe.

OOOOOOOOOO

_She's standing at the foot of my bed, dressed in one of her leotards, her dark hair loose and flowing around her shoulders._

"_I'm an alcoholic. That's why I didn't have the wine. That's why I left. I should've told you."_

"_It's okay," she smiles softly, climbing onto my bed and slowly peeling the leotard off and down her honey-toned shoulders. "I don't care, Edward. I'm here. I don't care…"_

OOOOOOOOOO

Friday morning, Mel and I have one of the roughest mornings we've had in a while.

She burns the toast, so I yell at her because the entire fucking apartment smells like burned fucking bread now and it's making my stomach roll. I can't find my damn cigarettes and I'm anxious as hell to get out of the apartment to go buy a pack, but when Mel steps out of the bathroom, she's got black shit all over her eyes again, and instead of just going to wash it off when I tell her too, she starts with the back talk.

"But Bella said it's okay if I wear a little mascara, as long as I don't overpower it with anything else. And Aunt Rose said she was right-"

"First of all, that's not a little, that's a whole goddamn lot, and besides, I don't give a rat's ass what makeup advice Bella and Rose gave you," I hiss, pointing a finger towards the bathroom. "They're not the ones responsible for you, I am, so go. wash. that garbage. off."

Mel glares up at me. "You've been in such a craptastic mood for the past couple of days!" she yells.

"Go!"

With a scowl but no further retorts, she marches into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

While we're storming out of the apartment and Mel's muttering that she's glad she doesn't have to spend the weekend with me, we bump into Heidi, and she invites me out for the night. I basically tell her to fuck off, but when I get downstairs to my truck, I've got a fucking parking ticket because apparently, I've fucking forgotten how to read parking signs in the past twenty-four hours.

Then Aro Volt, the Brandon's lawyer calls me with his monthly message, reminding me that the car will be outside waiting for Mel at seven thirty, and I curse him out for bothering me with the same shit month after month before hanging up on him.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Hey, Papi Chulo!" Angie calls out when I walk into the studio after work that evening to pick up Mel. "Been a while. Where you been hiding?"

"I haven't been hiding anywhere. Been busy," I mutter.

"Ah, I see," she says with a raised brow. "Busy and still as friendly as ever it seems."

"Where's Mel?"

Angie jerks her chin up to the wall of TVs. Mel is on one of the screens, in the same studio where she and Bella were last time; only this time, my niece is by herself.

"I was keeping her company, but I'm afraid I'm not as much fun as Bellita. When she watches Bella dance she's like "Oooh! Aaahh!", when she watches me dance, she's like "Wah, wah _wahh._" Her body sags slowly over the counter like a cartoon.

And despite the constant headache I've had for the past couple of days, I can't help chuckling. "You're a fucking nut. You know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, so I get told pretty often," she rolls her eyes, waving off my comment. "But you know, Papi, I like keeping it real."

"Keeping it real is always good."

"Hm," she grunts, lifting her brow pointedly. "Anyway, let me get Mellie Mel for you."

She walks to the studio door and call in, "Mellita, your Uncle's here!" And then she walks back behind the counter. "She's all set for you, Papi. Bella left specific instructions for me to feed her, care for her, and keep her safe and warm," she grins.

I clear my throat. "Uhm…well thanks for all that. And please give Bella my thanks as well."

"Oh no, Papito," she laughs, leaning over the counter, "you got anything to say to Bella, you tell her yourself. I've heard about the convos between the both of you. Just a simple thanks turns into something fierce! Man, if my man and I were to fuck with as much passion as you two argue, we'd be golden!"

I rake a hand through my hair. "She's told you about our…arguments."

"'Course she has! She's my girl! You hurt her feelings, Papito, just so you'll know," she says, both brows raised high this time while she slides her right forefinger over her left forefinger in a shame, shame gesture.

"Ah damn…I…I never meant to hurt her feelings."

"Like I said," she says, shaking her head and holding my gaze, "you got something to tell her, you gotta tell her yourself."

"Well, I can't really tell her anything tonight, can I?" I say, nostrils flaring. "She's on a _date_."

Angie studies me carefully, a strange smile plastered on her face.

"Yup," she says, popping her 'P.' "That she is. Isabella Maria Swan is on a date," she echoes almost tauntingly.

Just then, Mel steps out of the Studio room, and I draw in a deep breath, trying to focus on the here and now.

"You ready to go?"

"Yup."

So we turn to leave, and I should leave. I should just leave.

I should just fucking leave.

"Do me a favor," I tell Mel when we're at the door, "wait for me in the truck."

"Why?" she asks suspiciously.

"Just go."

She's got this slow grin thing going on, and yeah, thirteen now isn't the same as thirteen then.

"_Go!_" I snap.

"Okay, okay!" And then she giggles and I watch her run across the street, open the back door to the truck, toss in her bag and then get in the front.

When I turn back to Angie, she's watching me with an amused expression. "Que pasa, Papi? You need something?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Forty-five minutes later, Mel and I are outside our apartment building, leaning up against the truck and waiting when the long, black town car rounds the corner and comes to a stop right in front of us.

"Alright, Mel. Have a good weekend. I'll see you Sunday night."

She bites her lip. "Uncle Ed-"

"Mel..."

"Alright, alright!" she huffs. "I'm a kid; I get it, but…when I'm dancing…when I'm with Bella…"- her lip trembles – "it doesn't hurt so much."

I pull her into my arms and hold her tight before kissing her forehead. "Go on," I urge her gently. "They're waiting."

She nods and heaves her backpack over her shoulder before turning around. And when the driver opens the door for her, she gives me one last wave.

I wave back and then watch the town car turn the corner again before walking back into the building.

OOOOOOOOOO

It takes twenty minutes under the shower head to scrub all the dirt off of myself. I pick up the small brush and scour my nail beds until they're as clean as I can get them. Then I shampoo my hair twice, washing away every last bit of dirt and debris.

With a towel wrapped around my hips, I stand in front of the small, bathroom mirror and run the razor along my face and jaw.

Scrubbing a hand down my smooth face, I stare into my closet. There's not much to pick from other than work clothes, sweats, a few pairs of slacks and button down shirts. I reach for a pair of black dress slacks…but then remember the last time I wore them.

So I end up with the navy blue pair of slacks, a blue and red plaid button down collar shirt, and the grey, V-neck sweater Alice gave me last Christmas. I roll up the cuffs over the sweater and my forearms, and then slide my feet into my one and only pair of Oxfords. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself because it's been…a while. I pick up the comb…but then end up using my fingers to brush back my hair impatiently because what I could really use right now is a good, stiff-

No.

No, that's not what I can use right now. What I can use right now is much softer, has the most gorgeous smile in the world, and is having dinner with the wrong guy.

With a few deep breaths, I grab the truck keys, my short, black leather jacket and step out.

For her, I'll shove the fucking demons down; so far down that they'll never show their faces again, never be a threat to her.

For her, I'll learn to be patient, to believe Carlisle's words when he says that eventually, I'll be there.

For Bella, I'll work day and night to be the best man that I can be.

Because I can't- I _won't_ deny it anymore.

I want her with ever fiber of my being. I want every part of her.

And if she wants me, I'm hers.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**See you all Thursday to see what Edward has up his sleeve!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	13. Ch 13 The World is Full of Possibilities

**A/N: I can't tell you all how much I'm enjoying your reviews and your thoughts, as well as all the craziness on the fb page from this week's teasers, LOL. **

**So without further ado…**

**Betad over and over by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 13 – The World is Full of Possibilities**

**BPOV**

Mel is acting weird.

She's broody this afternoon, barely looked at me when she arrived, and her dancing is sluggish to say the least. I've had to tell her twice already to pick up her feet and put some life into it. When Jake starts pop, locking and b-boying, I catch Becca whispering in Mel's ear and gesturing towards him with a lusty grin, but Mel just shrugs her off.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask her during the mid-class water break.

"I guess," she says, still not looking at me. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes," I say because I mentioned this to her Wednesday night, "but like I told you, Angie's going to stay with you until your uncle picks you up, okay?"

She nods and glares down at the floor. "Whatever," she says and walks away without another word.

Now normally, I'd deal with this attitude after class, but tonight I'm leaving early, like right now because I've got that thing to get ready for. That date.

So I study her carefully while she fidgets and glares at her water bottle, her blue eyes downcast, still refusing to meet my gaze.

And now confusion is turning into concern. Did something happen to her?

Did something happen to Edward?

"Bella, you're leaving, right?" Jake asks me. "Go on, I've got the class."

He's pretty excited to see me go, but I'm not taking it personally. Jake's just eager to show me that he can handle a class on his own – been asking me for his own class for a while and yeah, I'll probably give him one. But that is the last thing on my mind right now.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving now."

"Alright, don't worry about the class. I got this," he grins, the diamond stud on his lip sparkling.

"I know you do," I smile back. "I'll see you tomorrow morning for Comp practice?"

"I'll be there," he confirms, and then I wave goodbye to everyone, and on my way out, I wrap my hand around Mel's wrist.

"Come outside with me for a sec."

She sighs and follows me.

The waiting area is pretty empty right now because most of the kids are in their respective classes. A few girls walk around, going to the bathroom or taking quick breaks. I gently pull Mel behind the counter where Angie is sitting.

"Bella, you gotta get going!" Angie says. "You're going to be late!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving, I'm leaving," I confirm. "Do me a favor, Angie. Will you go get my phone from my room? I forgot it inside the stereo." I make eyes at her indicating I want to be alone with Mel.

She frowns before the light goes on in her head. "Oh! Okay, I'll be right back with it. Matter of fact, maybe I'll keep Jake company for a few…"

"Thanks."

I take a seat and indicate to Mel that she should take a seat too. Another eye roll, so it seems that those are back, but she sits.

"Now tell me what's going on," I ask directly because I can't even think of leaving until I know.

"Nothing," she mutters.

"Mel…" I sigh deeply because seriously, between her and her uncle, I'm going to lose my mind here. So I wait her out while she glares at her lap, looks left and right refusing to look up, and then huffs and puffs until she finally meets my gaze; her blue, blue eyes clearly upset.

"I heard you on the phone Wednesday night. You're going on a date." It's stated as an accusation.

"Yes," I say slowly because I'm still not sure what the problem is here. "I told you about it."

"You said you were going out. You didn't say you were going on a date."

I bite my lip, my brows furrowing in confusion, but then she clears it up a bit more.

"I thought you were going to hang out with _me_ on Friday nights."

I sit back in my chair, my shoulders sagging in relief because it's just this.

"Mel…" I smile. "I'm just going on a date. It doesn't mean it's going to happen every Friday."

"But what if you like him, and you want to go out with him again next Friday?" she frowns darkly.

I sigh again, reaching up to run my fingers down the length of her silky, black hair. "Princesa, I promise I'm not going to stop hanging out with you on Fridays."

She smirks skeptically, and with that one action manages to look so much like her uncle that my heart clenches in my chest.

No, I refuse to think of Edward tonight.

"Look, it's just a first date," I chuckle. "The guy doesn't know my schedule, so he made reservations for eight o'clock. If I happen to go out with him again…" – something I already doubt, and I haven't even met the guy, and I think I know the reason why I doubt it, and it's already unfair to the poor guy…

But that's definitely not a subject I'm going to explore with Mel –

"I'll make sure that he knows I hang with my girl Mel Friday nights," I grin. "Okay?"

Her pronounced frown slowly relaxes, blue eyes clearing, and then little by little, the scowl on her face disappears.

"Okay," she smiles. But then suddenly she looks so thoughtful, and she bites her lip as if she's measuring her words. "Bella…"

"Yes?"

She doesn't answer right away, and then, "Nothing. Have a good time on your date."

Her wishes don't sound very heartfelt at all, but before I can say anything, she leans over and gives me a hug and then runs back to class.

And for tonight, I've got to leave it like that because yeah, I've got to go get ready for my date.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Back at my place, I have no idea what to wear. The fact that I have zero desire to go may have something to do with my indecision, but I pull out outfit after outfit, standing stoically with them in front of the full length mirror on my closet door, trying to find something that speaks to me. Too short, too long, too tight, too loose, and who the hell am I kidding? I'm in no mood for this.

But Angie is right. I've got to get back out there, back into the real world. Put everything else behind me and just…

My eyes fall to the glittery costumes Mel and I had been trying on the other day; they're thrown on the floor of my closet, and I suddenly realize how quiet the loft is. I'm starting to get used to the constant chatter and giggles of a pre-teen as well as the quiet brooding of her uncle…

But no, they're not for me to get used to. Edward has made that perfectly clear over and over and over again.

With an angry huff, I blindly slide the dress I currently have in my hands over my head because it'll do just as well as any other and this is ridiculous. I've got a date with someone who _wants_ to meet me, who _wants_ to spend time with me, who _wants_ to have dinner with me; I'm meeting someone who hopefully won't play push and pull games with me and damn it, I'm going to make the most of it.

"Make the most of it, make the most of it," I recite to myself as I zip up the black, sleeveless sheath, adjusting my boobs and smoothing down the skirt over my plump ass.

"Make the most of it, make the most of it," I repeat like a mantra while I apply my makeup, curling my long lashes with the mascara brush, blotting my red lips carefully so that the color doesn't bleed.

"Make the most of it, make the most of it," I breathe as I slide my feet into, long, black heels before wrapping a shawl around my shoulders and lifting my loose hair over it. With one last look in the mirror, I confirm that I look good and then remind myself that the world is full of possibilities for everyone.

Who knows? Tonight may be the beginning of all of mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

James Reed is an investment banker down on Wall Street. He owns a duplex apartment not too far from where we're dining, down by West 15th. He's considering buying a summer home in the Hamptons this coming season because a guy like him needs a weekend place to wind down. He drives a silver Beamer. Wasn't it a sweet ride? He's planning on buying a Red Ferrari because he enjoys fast drives. He and his buddies vacation in Mexico or in Veil every few months, depending on the season. Hey, they work hard, and they deserve their playtime too. Don't I agree?

"Of course," I nod blankly.

We're at a swanky steakhouse in the Meatpacking district of Manhattan, a restaurant James picked out and where I met him sixty-four minutes ago.

Oh yeah, I'm counting the minutes.

And you know what else? I am going to fucking murder Angie when I see her.

"How about you, Isabella? Do you own property?"

"I own my loft, and I'm half-partner at the dance school where I teach."

"That's cool. How about any vacation homes or cars?"

"No, I have none of those." With a faint smile, I shrug and take another sip of wine because I need the liquid fortitude to get through this fucking night.

"_He's a nice guy," _Angie said. I mean I know I haven't actually dated in a while, but is this the definition of a nice guy nowadays, the simple fact that he doesn't seem to have committed any capital crimes – beyond possible money-laundering?

And speaking of capital crimes, have I mentioned how I'm going to choke the shit out of Angie for setting me up with this dude?

I mean, yeah, he's good-looking: cropped blond hair, blue eyes, nice body, decked out in a dark, three piece suit and crisp, white dress shirt. But fuck, if the wine doesn't end up making me nauseous, the conversation definitely will.

"No car? How do you get around?"

"There are these things called trains," I grin. "And buses. And my own two legs. And when all those fail, I hail a cab. That's the beauty of New York City."

He scowls. "Ugh. I would never be caught dead riding this city's public transportation. It's for low lives and city scum." He shudders.

I grin widely and resist the urge to raise my hand. City scum here.

"And vacations? You do vacation, don't you?"

"I used to visit my grandmother in Puerto Rico quite a bit in the summers, but I haven't been down in a while."

"Have you ever been off the continent?"

"Nope."

"Oh. That's a shame. Anyway, I've heard it's too damn hot in Puerto Rico," he says with disgust. "Maybe if you play your cards right, I'll let you come with us to Cancun next time," he winks.

I chuckle heartily, glaring down at my half-empty glass of wine, and his resounding laughter makes me think that he thinks I'm laughing with him, not at him.

Which is fine; he can think whatever the hell he wants at this point. I gave up on this date five minutes after stepping in here.

And if I'm being honest with myself, which I might as well be at this point, I gave up on it long before I arrived. My heart was never in it because it's stupidly stuck somewhere else.

"Hey, how does your portfolio look? Are you diversified enough?"

"Boy, I sure hope so."

"Let me tell you what a young woman in your position should be investing in right now."

"Please do," I say, sipping my wine and plastering a smile on my face.

So James Reed dives right into stocks and bonds and buying short and selling high, apparently as in love with his portfolio as he is with the sound of his own voice.

And for the next fifteen minutes, I get a nice, free lesson on how to grow my income.

OOOOOOOOOO

Fifteen minutes later, I excuse myself to go to the restroom before I vomit all over James' nice, crisp, three-piece suit.

I take my fucking time in the stall: reciting the alphabet in English and Spanish, singing the national anthem, mentally sorting my laundry to save time this weekend. Humming quietly, I reapply my lipstick, going around and around and around my lips until they're blood red like that lipstick Mel used to wear those first couple of weeks after I met her. Thank God she doesn't wear it anymore, not after I gave her a case of pretty, neutral-toned lipsticks and explained the importance of skin-tone and age in picking lip colors.

Then I shake my head because I'm on a date, and I'm hiding out in the bathroom thinking of Edward's niece.

Thinking of Edward.

About how his green eyes blazed the last time I saw him, and about how he almost kissed me, how close his mouth was to mine…how rough and wonderful his hands felt on my skin…

"Shit, shit, _shit_," I groan, and bang my forehead against the mirror a few times to try to clear the images of Edward out of it. How sad am I?

Needless to say, head-banging does no use. I think he's used some of that cement he works with and cemented himself into my brain.

With a deep sigh, I lean against the white, porcelain sink and pull my cell phone out of my clutch.

**Did Mel get picked up yet?**

Angie's response appears right away.

**Yup. Nice and early. **

**Okay. Thanks for watching her.**

**Why r U thanking me?**

I don't respond, so she texts back thirty seconds later.

**How's your date?**

**I'm hiding out in the bathroom contemplating all the different ways I'm going to kill u when I see u. That answer your question? **

**LOL! U look good though, right? Make sure you smile and laugh a lot and that you look like you're having loads of fun! And stick those tetas out nice and sexy-like.**

**WTF? I'm ready to leave. Think I'll use the good ole headache excuse.**

**NO! DO NOT LEAVE YET! I REPEAT: DO NOT LEAVE YET! Go back out there and look like you're having the time of your life! NOW!**

**What? Why?**

**Coño, puñeta, ****just trust me and do it!**

"Whatever," I mutter to myself, and then throw the phone back in my bag. With a frustrated sigh, I leave the safety of the restroom and step back out into my lame-as-balls date.

OOOOOOOOOO

James is explaining the difference between a mutual fund and a hedge fund when my phone vibrates again. Now normally I consider it really rude when someone takes out there phone during dinner, but now I pull that shit out of my bag quick-fast, and when I see Edward's name appear across the screen, my spiritless heart wakes up and performs a summersault. But admitted elation quickly turns to dread, because why would Edward be calling me? Angie said he'd already picked up Mel.

Did something go wrong?

"And so if you're looking to be more aggressive in your investment, I would definitely recommend-"

I throw James a sharp glance and hold a finger up to my mouth, indicating that he should shut the fuck up for thirty seconds.

"Excuse me for one moment, but I really need to take this. Hello?"

"Bella…hey."

Edward sounds…nervous, which in turn stops my heart.

"Is everything okay? Is Mel alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Mel's fine. I picked her up a while ago. She's with her grandparents now."

"Okay," I exhale in relief. "Okay." I wait for my heart to start up again.

On the other line, Edward is silent.

"Is there something else?" I ask.

No answer.

"Hello?"

I hear a deep intake of breath followed by a thick swallow. "You look beautiful."

When my heart stops this time, it's with a couple of massively hefty thumps, after which everything around me goes perfectly still and silent.

"What?"

"You look beautiful, Bella. I mean, you always look beautiful; I've wanted to tell you that…for a while. But tonight…right now…you look…God, there are no words…"

The entire world disappears, and suddenly all I can hear are Edward's and my heavy breaths. They continue on and on for an endless moment; his so potent that I can practically feel them tickling my ear. When my heart somehow throbs back into service, it races.

"Isabella? Isabella, what's going on?" James asks impatiently, and I get the feeling he's asked more than once. So I swiftly shoot him one more look, holding another finger up to my lips.

But it's actually a good question, and so I ask Edward exactly that. "What's going on?"

"What's going on?" he snorts. "What's going on is that…I've been a total and complete…idiot…and now that I see, I might be too late. So instead of being there with you, instead of being the man granted the honor of sitting across from you when you look so heartbreakingly beautiful, I'm watching you do something with another man that you should be doing with me, something I should've asked you to do a long time ago. Then maybe you would've worn that dress that looks so god damn gorgeous on you for me. And you would've worn your hair like that for me…"

My breaths escape in short, shallow bursts, eyes glazed over, seeing nothing, hearing nothing but his voice.

"Isabella, is everything okay?" James questions, once more breaking me out of my trance, yet I can't make myself respond because something Edward just said hits me…

"…_watching you do something with another man that you should be doing with me…that dress that looks so god damn gorgeous on you…_

I gasp at the realization, and with huge, bewildered eyes, turn my head from side to side, scanning everything before me with new purpose. There are more couples like James and I seated around the restaurant, at small tables lit by solitary, votive candles; some are laughing quietly, some are whispering, heads close together, drinking wine. The larger parties are louder, rowdier, yet none of them have the one person I'm searching for, so maybe I'm wrong.

Then I anxiously look out through large, restaurant window, where people stroll by in the cool, dark evening. But none of them are familiar. Half lifting myself off my seat and heart pounding in my chest, I narrow my eyes and look across the street; more people walking back and forth, here and there and then…then…in the corner…a tall, solitary figure…standing still, on his cell phone, eyes on me…

"That guy doesn't deserve you."

"And you do?" I breathe shakily, taking a seat again and somehow holding his gaze across the distance.

"No. But that doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how much I want you."

I close my eyes and swallow thickly, dropping my head. "Do you? I'm not so sure you do."

"I want you so badly my head spins when I'm around you. You drive me so crazy that I say the stupidest shit when all I want to do is tell you how perfect you are. And you want me too, Bella."

I snort unevenly, probably sounding ridiculous actually. My face feels hot; my entire body burns.

"You sound pretty sure of that."

"Bella, I can practically see your blush from here; I've memorized the way it slowly crawls up your shoulders, over your neck and into your cheeks. I hear it in your voice, and whenever you blush like that I know I've gotten something right; I've said something right, and God, I love seeing you blush. It's perfect, just like you."

"I'm not. I'm far from it."

"You are to me. And yes, you want me too. I do know that, just like I know that you'd rather be with me right now than with that asshole sitting across from you."

My eyes trail to James. He's staring at me in confusion, looking quite irritated, and for one second, I feel a bit sorry, so I shoot him an apologetic smile.

He rolls his eyes.

But I can't be bothered to care beyond that because this entire scene seems surreal. I'm dreaming. That has to be it. The boredom has knocked me out and now I'm dreaming. And just how in dreams falling causes you to wake up, if I hang up, I'll end this dream.

So I won't hang up. Not while Edward is saying these things to me, things I've wanted to hear for so long now…

"Where's all this coming from? Why now?"

"Why now?" he snorts. "Because I couldn't wait any longer. Because another day without telling you would've killed me."

"Oh Jesus," I whisper because I may need His holy help getting through this.

Edward remains silent too. Across from me, James taps indignant fingers over the table, sighing heavily, resting his head over his other hand.

"I'm in the middle of a date."

"Tell him something came up. Tell him you have to go. Tell him you're not interested. Tell him the truth: that I'm out here waiting for you. Tell him whatever you want, and then get up, and come finish your night with me."

I laugh a loud, manic laugh, and I know I must sound insane. My entire body shivers.

"You're crazy," I say breathlessly.

"Maybe I am. But I don't care anymore because it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what I feel, or what either one of us wants."

A heady thrill runs up my spine into every extremity, making my entire body hum and tingle. I palm my cheek to try to cool myself down, but I'm on fire. Maybe I'm not dreaming after all.

"I'll make you a deal," he murmurs, his voice warm and rough all at once, with a slight tremble to it as if despite the self-assertiveness of his words, he's not so sure of himself, and little does he know what that alone does to me.

"Are you listening?"

"Intently," I assure him.

"Just give me the next few hours. Come out here, and let me take you out. Spend some time with me, and if after those few hours I haven't convinced you, I won't bother you again, and you can call Mr. Three-piece-suit, and I'm sure he'll be more than willing to take you out again."

My heart's about to beat out of my chest. "I've got one question," I say.

"What is it?"

"Convince me of what?"

His voice sounds like velvet against my ear when he answers. "Convince you that you belong with me."

This time, when my eyes flutter closed, I've got to bite my lip to keep from whimpering aloud. I don't respond right away, but I'm sure that Edward can hear my labored breathing because I can hear how it echoes over the phone line. I'm sure James can hear it as well.

"Isabella, are you feeling okay?" James asks.

"What do you say, Bella? Just give me the next few hours…that's all I'm asking for…just the next few hours…"

I'm gripping the phone so tightly in my hands that I'm afraid it'll break before I can answer because I can't speak. I can't utter one single word.

"Isabella."

"I…" I draw in a deep breath and exhale through narrowed lips, trying desperately to regain the power of speech. "I…I've got to go."

As soon as I hit 'End', James mutters, "'Bout time."

"James, I said I've got to go."

"What?" he scowls.

I could lie. I could tell him I have a headache, a stomach ache, period cramps, but that's not how I want to start this. My body vibrates with anticipation. I couldn't disguise it even if I wanted to.

"I'm sorry, James," I say, already getting up, "but this was never going to work." He frowns. "And agreeing to have dinner with you was unfair of me, but...I've got somewhere else I need to be right now."

Without waiting for his reaction, I gather my shawl and wrap it around my shoulders. My head spins with my impatience to be outside, to be near him; _with_ him.

"Wait!" James gets up and grabs my arm, not hard, but with enough force to turn me around, and I'm ready to curse him out because I _need_ to get outside. "You look flushed. Are you sure okay?"

I smile at him because I guess he's not such a bad guy after all.

"I'm just fine," I sigh unevenly, full of unbridled excitement. "I'm...great."

And with a rushed "thanks for dinner," I untangle my arm from his hold and swiftly make my way through the maze of tables.

"Isabella! Don't you want me to at least take you home?"

This time, I can't even bother to turn around. "Thanks, but I've got a ride!"

And with more than one pair of curious eyes on me, I dash out of the restaurant because there was never a choice for me. There was never a decision to make.

OOOOOOOOOO

Outside, I'd swear that the city lights sparkle brighter than they did when I arrived. They're blinding in their beauty, but I struggle to see through their luster, straining my eyes in the darkness towards where I saw the tall, handsome figure, and I rush towards him now, holding the shawl tightly around my shoulders and only barely stopping to look left and right before I cross because it would be totally ironic if I died just now.

When I'm almost at the other side of the street, I feel a hand that's rough and somehow smooth all at once tighten around my wrist and pull me up from the curb. I look up and gasp because Edward spends his days in work clothes with dirt and grime and compound all over him - and he's still the most striking man I've ever met.

But now…

Now he wears a short, black, leather jacket with a grey sweater peeking out from underneath, and it accentuates wide shoulders and an oh so strong chest. Everything narrows to lean hips in dark slacks and shiny, black Oxfords on his feet. His face is smooth and freshly shaven, and his hair is so clean: bronze and brown positively shine under the city lights. The entire universe narrows to this moment, to Edward and I, while the city lives and breathes around us. Behind him, a couple of women walk by decked out for a Friday night in the city and devour him with their eyes; one makes some sort of comment, but his eyes don't stray from mine.

Nothing else exists.

He sighs as if in relief, as if he doubted that I'd come, as if he still doesn't understand that I'll _always_ come. Swallowing thickly, his bright green eyes sparkle and dance in the dark light, and he looks at me like I'm the best thing that's happened to him…in a long time, and I want to be. I want to put everything in the past and be the best for him. And when he looks at me this way…it's so easy to believe that it's possible.

He rests his forehead on mine.

"Hey," he grins, pulling me closer, his warm breath washing over me. "I'm Edward Cullen."

I'm lost in those eyes. I think maybe I'll always be.

"Hey," I breathe because yes, the world is full of possibilities. "I'm Bella Swan."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**After posting this chapter's teaser on my fb page, there was a lot of discussion as to whether Bella should've gone to Edward, or made him suffer. But as Bella says towards the end of this chapter, it was never really a choice for her, right or wrong. Sometimes, the heart just wants what the heart wants - reason and common sense play no part in it. *Shrugs***

**So yeah, Happy ALMOST Valentine's Day. 3**

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_**Princesa **_**– Princess**

_**Coño, puñeta**_** – damn, damn**

**_Tetas_ - tits**

**We're moving on next week, kiddies, and if you think this chapter's teaser was something, wait 'til you see next week's teaser. :)**

**See you all on Monday!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page. (Where you can get the aforementioned teasers). :)**


	14. Chapter 14 - How Addiction Begins

**A/N: I hope everyone had a nice Valentine's Day weekend. Mr. PattyRose and I enjoyed it thoroughly. ;)**

**Loved reading your thoughts on the last chapter. Despite the angst I may put you all through, I'm a die-hard romantic at heart. ;)**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - How Addiction Begins**

**EPOV**

"'_Bout time," Jasper greeted me as soon as he opened the door. "What took you so long?"_

"_Dude, the guy who was supposed to cover my shift at the bar was late."_

"_Alright, alright," Jasper smirked. "Hurry up; we've been waiting for you. Alice is getting ready to cut the cake."_

_I rushed past him and into the kitchen of Alice and Jasper's small apartment in Queens. Mel, in a frilly, pink dress and sparkly crown, was standing on one of the kitchen chairs, next to a cake shaped like a Princess. The rest of our family - Alice, Rose, Royce and their baby daughter, Rachel, as well as Jasper's buddy, Emmett, were there as well._

_As soon as Mel spotted me, she jumped off of the chair and ran straight into my arms, her crown wobbling down onto her forehead, big, blue eyes wide and excited._

"_Uncle Edward, you made it!"_

"_Of course I made it," I grinned, pushing the crown back in place and kissing her raised brow. "You think I'd miss your seventh birthday?"_

_We sang Happy Birthday and blew out pink candles, and then Mel opened her presents. She had this princess obsession going on, so before coming over I'd run into the toy store and bought her a couple of Princess dolls. One of them looked friggin' just like her with the black hair and blue eyes._

"_You sure know how to make her happy, but you didn't have to buy her anything, Edward," Alice whispered while we watched Mel go to town with the wrapping paper. "Just you being here is enough for her. She was getting anxious." _

"'_Course I'm here," I shrugged. "Have I ever missed her birthday?"_

"_No, you haven't," Alice agreed, smiling at me with so much gratitude it was embarrassing. "You're always here for her, Edward." _

_I rolled my eyes, and she chuckled._

"_Anyway, I thought you'd bring your girlfriend."_

"_What girlfriend?" I snorted._

"_Jasper said he saw you with some girl last time he was at your place."_

"_That's not a girlfriend," I smirked._

_Alice stared at me._

"_What? Look, she's not worth bringing around here. She's not…someone I'd want around Mel."_

"_If she's not worth it, then why, Edward? You're so much better than those kinds of…relationships."_

_Despite the question, there was no judgment in her tone. There never was. And anyway, I had no response. So I kept my eyes on my niece, watching her play with her new toys. _

_Once Mel was in bed, Emmett left, and I helped clean up. And then I swung my jacket back on._

"_Where are you going?" Jasper asked._

"_I've got some friends waiting for me."_

"_I was hoping you'd stay with us tonight."_

_I looked around the room. Everyone was suddenly staring at me._

_And I knew what staying at Jasper and Alice's meant. Jasper didn't buy alcohol. He didn't allow it in his house, and besides, I could never drink around Mel. I never had, and I never would._

_But it'd been a few hours…_

"_Maybe next time." I headed for the door._

"_Edward." It was a tone I rarely heard from Jasper. Authoritative. Commanding. He wasn't simply my brother when he used that tone._

_With a deep breath, I turned around and met Jasper's steady gaze._

"_This is getting serious. We're seeing you less and less."_

_I scrubbed a hand down my face. "Been busy."_

"_You look pale."_

"_I'm fine," I said through clenched teeth. "Just tired."_

"_I don't think your working as a bartender is the best idea either."_

"_It's a job. Make good tips," I shrugged._

_Jasper sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Look, just…stay tonight, alright?"_

"_Not tonight," I shook my head. _

"_You can't stop, Edward," Rose hissed. "That's why you won't stay with Jasper. You haven't had a drink in a few hours and now your fiending. You won't admit it, but you can't stop."_

"_I can stop whenever I want. What do you think I am, an Alckie?" I snickered. "Some sort of addict, like Dad?"_

"_You're just like Dad, but-"_

"_Rose!" Alice said, cutting off my sister. "Enough."_

_And like her husband, it was a tone she rarely used, but when she did, __**everyone**__ listened. She crossed the room to me, reaching out and taking my hand._

"_You're not like your father; you don't run. Neither you nor Jasper run. So stay, Edward...for Mel and me. Stay."_

_I swallowed thickly, my throat beginning to ache, dry and scratchy, but the way Alice looked at me…the trust in her eyes…_

_Slowly, I peeled off my jacket and threw it across the couch. _

_From across the room, I heard Jasper's sigh of relief._

"_Come on, little brother," he grinned, "You got this. Just one step at a time, bro."_

OOOOOOOOOO

"I've got to go," she says, and then ends the call.

"Bella?"

Wait, was she talking to me or to her date?

Fuck, I don't know.

I rake a hand through my hair, cursing myself as I do because now it's all a mess again. Heart in my hands, I watch her from the curb, across the street from the upscale restaurant to which the fucker in the three-piece suit brought her.

She's talking to him; smiling, and never in my life have I wanted to have super hearing or read minds as badly as I do now.

Three-Piece-Suit fucker is nodding - but it could be a "Good-job-at-getting-rid-of-the-fucker-on-the-phone" nod, or it could be an "I-understand-completely-if-you-don't-feel-well-and-just-want-to-go-home," nod, so it doesn't tell me much.

And then Bella reaches out and puts one of her hands over the guy's hand, and my chest constricts.

But then she stands up, and the guy stands up, and she wraps something around her shoulders, and the guy comes around the table and plants a kiss on her cheek, and fuck, what's going on? What the hell is going on?

Bella picks up her purse and starts walking.

Three-Piece-Suit asshole watches her go - with this really pitiful look on his face.

And I may or may not be sporting the biggest shit-eating grin this side of Manhattan.

While she stands at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change, I release a steadying breath through narrowed lips, craving a smoke, but I don't want cigarette breath tonight.

This is Bella running towards me, and tonight I'm going to kiss the hell out of her if it's the last thing I do.

"_Come on, little brother, you got this,"_ I imagine Jasper saying, patting my shoulder encouragingly, grinning my way.

"I got this; I got this," I chant quietly.

She crosses the street, taking a few quick steps while her long, dark hair flutters in the breeze, and I can already smell her perfume: that scent that's like flowers blended with honey and only hers. When she's close enough, I reach out for her hand because I can't hold back anymore. I can't resist her, and I won't.

She stops and looks up at me and neither one of us bothers to be discreet about the fact that we're checking one another out. She's got a shawl thing wrapped around her shoulders, so I can't see them now, but I saw her dress before when I was watching her with the Three-Piece-Suit asshole. It's a strapless number that hugs her curves; sexy, but not skin-tight…not like those girls I vaguely remember from…before. Her legs look like they stretch for miles and miles, long and so fucking shapely and hot in those heels. I've never seen her in heels, and I'm breathless and dizzy.

Our eyes finally meet.

"Hey…I'm Edward Cullen."

"Hey…I'm Bella Swan…and I really like that leather jacket on you," she grins. "And that sweater and shirt. And those pants."

"Thanks. I already told you how beautiful you look tonight."

"Yes, you did - in the middle of my date, no less," she adds wryly.

"I'd apologize, but I'm not really sorry."

"Then don't apologize."

Silence. We stand there staring at each other, but it's not uncomfortable. It's not uncomfortable at all. It's like…this feeling of woozy anticipation deep in my gut and a thousand times more real than any sensation I ever got from a bottle.

She smiles brightly at me, perfect white teeth contrasting with honey skin, and then she squeezes my hand.

"Alright, then, Mr. Cullen. You managed to get me to venture out here with you. Shall we get started? I'm giving you until midnight, and it's…" - she checks her watch - "nine-thirty."

"Until midnight to what?" I ask, trying to blink away the spell she puts me under every. single. time.

"To convince me," she grins, arching her perfect eyebrows teasingly.

"Oh, yeah," I smirk. "Until midnight? Okay, so…where would you like to go?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" she laughs, sounding so damn carefree and excited I just want to kiss her right now and the hell with convincing her.

"That's not how this is going to work. This was your idea; you tell me where we're going. Or beyond crashing my date, did you not plan that far ahead?"

I've barely been able to think straight since I found out she was going on a date.

"I guess I should've planned ahead."

She chuckles, and though she waits patiently, she's not going to make this too easy on me.

"Well…since you already ate, I suppose dinner is out of the question?"

"It is," she grins mischievously.

"Hmm," I ponder thoughtfully, rubbing my chin with my thumb. I don't miss the way she bites her bottom lip while she watches me, and it thrills me. Fuck, I need to kiss her.

"Have you had dessert?"

"No," she chuckles again. "And just to help you out here, I love dessert. I love sweets. They're my weakness."

"Your weakness, huh? Do you like chocolate?"

"I love chocolate!" she confesses, bouncing enthusiastically on those fucking heels.

"Alright then, I may have an idea."

When I move in closer to her, I hear her slight intake of breath, and her eyes grow wide.

She wants to be kissed. I know she does. But once I kiss her, I won't be able to stop, and…

And there's so much she doesn't fucking know, so much she deserves to know, so much she _has_ to know before one kiss leads to another, and before…before I can't imagine one day going by without her.

"_One step at a time, little brother," _I hear Jasper say. _"You just have to take it one step at a time."_

"_One step at a time,"_ I hear Carlisle say, like he has so many times over the past few months.

One step at a time.

I place my hand on the small of her back. "Shall we, Miss Swan?"

Her mouth curls up into a soft grin. "We shall."

Side by side, we silently walk back to my truck, parked half a block away. It's cool out, but considering it's mid-November, it's not too bad at all tonight, and what's more, the heat of her body next to mine has me burning.

When I open the truck door to help her in, she puts her soft hand on my forearm, bestowing on me another one of her beautiful smiles; the ones for me, not the ones she gave me earlier this week.

"I got this," I remind myself quietly as I walk over to the driver's side.

"So where are we going?" she asks once I turn the truck on.

"Nope," I grin, my eyes on the side-view mirror while I pull out of the parking space, "you wouldn't tell me where you wanted to go, so now it's a surprise."

"Lucky for you, I happen to love surprises! Speaking of which, how did you know…" She trails off and smirks. "Angie!"

I chortle aloud. "Yup."

"I'd say I'm going to kill her, but I'm not," she admits.

I glance over at her, and for two seconds, we're locked in each other's eyes, and with a strangely…light and refreshing feeling, a feeling like maybe the world is full of possibilities…I drive us off.

OOOOOOOOOO

We keep things light and simple in the truck, yet all the while I'm hyper aware of every move she makes: when she shifts from side to side, when she crosses one leg over the other, and her dress rides up a bit, exposing her legs just above her knees. I've got to keep my eyes on the windshield even though I can feel her heat and my hands twitching to reach out, to touch her warmth and make sure she's really here.

"So what'd you tell the jerk in the three-piece?"

She chuckles. "I told him I had a hot guy waiting outside for me with a better offer."

"Whoa." I jerk my head back in surprise, and she laughs.

"No, not really. That would be pretty mean, don't you think? Poor guy, I told him the truth: he seemed like a nice guy, but I didn't see it going anywhere. He was actually really decent. He could've been a jerk about it."

I nod. "So that first thing you said wasn't true then?" I ask, side-glancing and teasing her like she teased me about the midnight deadline.

"Which part? The part about the hot guy or the part about the better offer?"

"Both."

"The part about the hot guy I'm not answering, as for the better offer…" – out of my periphery, I see her head turn my way, and I feel the burn of her gaze – "…well that's what I'm here to find out."

I let out a low chuckle. "Fair enough."

There's a bit of traffic driving down Union Square, and my fingers tap a restless beat over the steering wheel while I wait for the cars to move.

"I think Mel was a bit upset at me tonight," she says.

I give her another quick sideways glance and frown. "What makes you say that?"

Out of my periphery, I see her shrug, and it reminds me of how bare her shoulders are under that sweater.

"She had a bit of an attitude with me."

I shake my head. "Don't take it personally. She always has a bit of an attitude going on. Actually…I may have been in a bit of a…bad mood myself this morning, and it may have rubbed off on her."

"Why were you in a bad mood this morning?"

Once more, I glance over her way quickly. I can't help it though I know I should keep my eyes on the windshield.

"Let's just say I wasn't looking forward to tonight."

"You weren't?" she asks, her voice startled and…slightly hurt, and I realize what she's thinking. I've put my foot in my mouth again.

"I mean that I wasn't looking forward to _your_ tonight," I clarify. "To your…_date_." I enunciate with a smirk. "This tonight, however..."

"Oh. Oh," she chuckles. "Okay. How did you know I had a date?"

"A little birdie with long black hair and blue eyes told me."

"Mel," she laughs.

"Mel," I confirm. "She just…had to dig that in there, you know?"

She lets out another sweet laugh. "No, I don't think she told you to dig in anything, Edward. She loves you!"

"Pfft," I snort. "You should've seen her this morning."

"Oh, I've seen the attitude come out, believe me," she chortles. "But she worships you, Edward. I've seen that too. And I've heard it when she talks about you."

"What does she say?" I ask a little too quickly because I know she wouldn't. Mel and I have never actually discussed it, but I just know she wouldn't.

"Nothing in particular. I can just…tell how much you mean to her," Bella says softly.

We weren't too far from our destination, so I'm already parking the truck again. We're a couple of blocks away, but it's as close a parking space as I'm likely to get. I put the truck in park, my hand resting over the stick shift, and with a deep sigh, look over at Bella again, finally able to keep my eyes on her.

"Can we try something?" I ask quietly.

She shrugs her shoulders, smiling, and God, I want to rip that shawl right off and see those pretty, bare shoulders up close.

"Let's try not to talk about Mel right now, not just yet."

_Because if we talk about Mel, then we have to talk about so much more._

"Okay," she nods slowly.

"Okay. Are you ready?"

She nods more enthusiastically.

"Let's go."

OOOOOOOOOO

She convinces me to order a fondue bowl for two, and I'm more than a bit relieved when she doesn't offer to pay or even go halves.

After a few minutes, we manage to find a cozy table for two and wait while our small pot of melted chocolate is placed before us, surrounded by a plateful of graham crackers, marshmallows, bananas and peanut butter.

And then we're dipping all these things into the hot pot of melted chocolate; rather, she is. I'm not really into dipping shit into chocolate, but she's laughing while she makes these small sandwiches with all the ingredients and dips them, moaning and rolling her eyes when she takes a bite. The restaurant is pretty dark and noisy and warm, so she takes off the shawl, and there are those shoulders – those bare, honey-toned shoulders with a few birthmarks scattered here and there, and I'm hypnotized, but I have to look away. Either way, through all the noise and bullshit and hoopla going on around us, she's all I see; her voice and laughter is all I hear. There's something about this moment, about sitting here with her that I could get addicted to real easy. I know I can. Just like I know I have no right. But she's here laughing and talking and spending time with _me, _and I can't pretend anymore that I'm not addicted.

So she dips a graham cracker into the chocolate because I tell her that's the only thing here I may like dipped in chocolate, and she holds it up to my mouth. I take the offered cracker drenched in chocolate, and chew it and look at her, and she looks at me, and I don't want a drink, I don't want a smoke, and that's how I know I'm addicted.

OOOOOOOOOO

I ask her if she'd mind taking a walk down to Union Square Park a couple of blocks away, and she says she'd love a walk, especially after that dessert. She says it's going to go to all the wrong places, and I tell her the truth: that there are no wrong places on her. She looks down and I think I've done the foot-in-mouth thing again, but even in the dark I see the blush spreading, and I know I'm okay – so far.

Then I ask her if she's cold, even though she's got that shawl thing around her shoulders again, and she says not really, which I can tell means yes, so I take off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders even though that's just adding more layers. God, I want to touch those shoulders.

"Thanks for bringing me here; I loved it," she chuckles. "I'd always heard about this place, but I've never been here. Have you?"

We're slowly strolling down Broadway, side by side. Our hands keep bumping into each other, knuckles brushing against knuckles, and I have no idea what the standard operating procedure is here. When you meet a girl at a bar or even at a club sometimes, you don't take her to Max Brenner's for dessert. You don't take a leisurely stroll with her down a noisy, city street. You don't wonder if she wants you to hold her hand. When you're a plastered motherfucker, you take them to the back, or to an alley, or back to her place, or yours. When your next door neighbor is your fuck-buddy, you knock on her door, she lets you in, you fuck her and leave. That's what I know.

"No. My sister-in-law used to rave about it. I think my brother brought her once or twice, and she fell in love with it. He was supposed to bring her again, but it just never happened."

"Oh."

We reach the intersection of Broadway and Union Square, and it's teeming with cars, cabs and pedestrians all trying to get to different places at the same time. When the light turns green, I reach out and take her hand and help her cross because it's a crazy intersection and because I can't not touch her anymore.

She weaves her fingers through mine and holds on tight, and maybe she shouldn't have done that because she doesn't know that I'm addicted now, and I may never let go.

So we walk along silently, her hand in mine, warm and smooth, and I wonder what she thinks of the calluses rubbing against her palm, but she's not complaining. She's not trying to loosen our hold. We climb the small steps and walk towards the statue of the man on the horse, and I'm looking at it with my heart beating hard in my chest when she stops us and sits on the stoop, pulling me down with her.

I sit next to her. With her one free hand, she smoothes down the hem of her dress, bending her legs sideways so that the skirt doesn't ride up too much, but I still see those legs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks.

My eyes climb to her shoulders; to my jacket on her shoulders.

"We don't have to," she says.

"I do...want to talk about it, I mean."

"Your brother and sister-in-law…how did they pass away?"

My eyes move to her eyes, her warm, dark eyes, so deep and bottomless. And I remember the dream…

"_I'm here, Edward. I don't care. I'm here."_

"They were hit by a…drunk driver."

"God, I'm so sorry," she whispers, and even through the noise of everything surrounding us, I hear her. She reaches out and takes my other hand, and I look down at where we're joined.

"My sister, Rose, was watching Mel. I was supposed to watch her that night, but...I'd been out with a couple of friends the night before and I wasn't...Jasper and Alice were going to the movies. They usually went with Mel, but this one time…I think it was some R rated shit. Anyway," I breathe, "my sister called me and told me there'd been an...accident, and I met them at the hospital, but they'd died instantly, and...yeah, that's..."

She squeezes my hands tighter, so tight I feel her nails on my knuckles. For a long while, neither one of us speaks. Her thumbs begin drawing light, soothing circles over my knuckles.

"What happened to the...driver?"

"He's in hell somewhere."

I see her nod out of my periphery, hear her audible swallow. "I thought maybe it was something like that, but…I wasn't sure."

Now I let my eyes meet hers again. "Mel hasn't told you any of it?"

She shakes her head. "She's just begun to mention them, but it has to be on her terms. If I ask her something about them, she shuts me down by either saying she can't remember, or she just doesn't want to talk about it."

"My friend Carlisle, he's a psychologist," I tell her after a while. "He says Mel needs to speak to someone; someone she can trust, someone with who she feels comfortable, but she refuses to see a therapist. The state would pay for one, but…she doesn't want to. She says she doesn't need to."

Bella nods. "If you wouldn't mind…I mean…I'm no therapist or anything, but I think she feels comfortable with me. Maybe I can push her just a little," she says. "Try to get her to talk, you know? It's always good to talk to someone, to share your burdens."

For two seconds, while I'm looking at her, I see Alice-

-but not the actual Alice because Alice was Jasper's. She was his rock, his strength, his salvation.

What I mean is that I see, for just a fraction of a second, a future where maybe…just maybe…I can have my own rock, my own strength. _My_ salvation.

"That would be…" – I exhale – "really great of you. She adores you, you know."

She looks down, blushing again, and then looks back up with a soft smile. "I care about her too. But she'll open up on her own time, Edward. I won't force her, and besides, she seems less…angry than she did when she first started dancing with me; at least, I think so," she shrugs.

"She is," I nod vehemently. "She's so different, and it's all thanks to you, Bella."

"No, Edward," Bella shakes her head, squeezing both my hands once more. "I mean, if I've helped at all, I'm grateful for that, but it's you she spends most of her time with. You're the main force helping her get through this."

I snort and look away. "You have no idea how impossible that is. I'm just a constant reminder of what she's lost."

She furrows her brows, clearly confused.

And the words are there, but what comes out is, "I don't want to burden you, Bella, with any more issues. You're Mel's dance teacher, and I'm grateful for all your help with her, but…you don't need to burden yourself with anything else."

I want to kick myself as soon as the words are out there, and my first clue that she may want to do the same is when her thumbs stop stroking my hands. Then the firmness of her grip loosens. Then she closes her eyes for two beats too long and drops her head with a snort.

When she looks back up at me, she tilts her head sideways and releases a long breath through her nostrils.

"Edward, I've been watching Mel three nights a week for almost two months now, never asking questions from her or from you even though at this point, I think I have a right. And now you lure me out of my date and feed me the most delicious chocolate," she chuckles humorlessly, "yet you're _still_ pushing me away."

"No, Bella," I say, wrapping my hands around her face. She puts her hands over mine, watching me warily. "I swear, I'm not trying to be an asshole with you. It's just…there's a lot of stuff going on right now."

"We all have _stuff_ going on, Edward," she says shakily.

"I know, I know." I swallow thickly and close my eyes, and when I reopen them, she's watching me, waiting, still so patient despite all my fuck ups.

"I've never been good at this. At…communicating," I clarify. "I don't want to push you away anymore, but…just give me time."

She squeezes my hands again, and suddenly something like…shame fills her features. She looks down again, but this time it's like she's hiding, and she takes a deep breath before looking up.

"You're right. It's hard to share everything all at once. I'm sorry." She looks away again. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." She won't look at me, so I force myself into her line of vision. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she smiles faintly. "I'm fine." And then she takes another deep breath and gives me a bigger smile before pulling my hands off her face, bringing them down to her lap, still keeping our fingers laced together. "I'm fine."

I study her for a couple of heart beats, searching her eyes, but I can tell I'm making her uncomfortable.

"Heavy talk for a first date, huh? Guess I'm not doing a very good job of convincing you, and I've only got…" – I check my watch – "about an hour left."

"I'm actually glad you spoke to me about all this. I've been wondering, but…I didn't want to pry. Besides," she grins, her spirits seeming to lift, "that chocolate fondue…man, was that sick, as your niece would say! Might go a long way towards convincing me," she winks.

I throw my head back, laughing. "Don't tell me that all I needed all along was a pot of melted chocolate. Had I known that, I would've brought you over a bucket full weeks ago."

"Now, I didn't say that was _all_ you needed," she teases. "Don't forget the marshmallows."

"The marshmallows. Of course," I laugh. "Thank you for listening," I tell her more soberly.

"Thank you…for sharing with me."

Taking both her hands, I help her up to her feet, but I guess I must pull her arms a bit too hard because suddenly her body's falling forward and she lands on my chest, her hands on my shoulders, and she's right there. Right on me. Warm and soft, and getting me drunk on her scent and her skin, and it's the best thing in the world and the worst thing in hell because I've just got to dip my head and her mouth will be mine. She'll be mine, and she's perfect.

She's perfect.

And what fucking right do I have to steal her into my world? To claim her for myself when I have _nothing_ to offer her beyond AA meetings and doing without new work boots to pay for dance classes, and keeping a half-empty bottle of Jack under the sink to try to keep myself from fucking up again?

And she's looking at me with those eyes, those dark, hypnotizing eyes, her mouth begging to be kissed because it doesn't know.

_She_ doesn't know.

I reach up and stroke her perfect face, brush the tips of my fingers along her smooth cheek, skim them along her jaw, circle up to her bottom lip, and she closes her eyes…waiting…

"Come on, it's getting cold. Let me take you home."

For two seconds after she opens her eyes, she looks completely bewildered, blinking profusely. Then she sets her jaw in a tight line, swallowing thickly, and nods.

And side by side, we walk back the way we came.

OOOOOOOOOO

The ride back to Brooklyn is uncomfortably quiet. I know she's upset. I know I've hurt her – again. I've embarrassed her - again, humiliated her, but she doesn't know why. She could have any man she wants, there's no need for her to complicate her life with me.

She stares out of the passenger side window the entire ride back. A few minutes before we reach her block, she takes off my jacket and bundles it carefully, placing it in the space between us.

When we arrive at her building, I put the car on park and then…we just sit there.

"Thank you, I had a…good time," she says, turning her head to the side, but only giving me a sidelong glance.

I simply nod because what else can I say at this point?

"So I…." Her voice shakes, and she waits for me to fill in the blanks, but I don't have anything to fill them with, that's what she doesn't get.

Finally, she sighs and turns to open her door.

"Let me get that for you."

I get out of the car and cross over to her side, opening the door for her.

"Thanks," she murmurs, avoiding my gaze.

I walk behind her to her door and watch as she takes her keys out of her bag, adjusting her shawl when it threatens to slip off her shoulder. Her honey-toned shoulder. My heart hammers against my ribs.

"I guess I'll see you Monday," she says without looking at me, sticking the key in the lock while my chest heaves.

When I grab her arm and whip her around to face me, she glares up at me defiantly, triumphantly, with a small smile playing on her face like somehow, she's won.

I push her up against the door and fist the back of her hair in one hand, cradling her jaw in the other.

"Damn it, I can't push you away anymore," I breathe, my mouth almost on hers. Almost.

"Then stop fucking trying," she hisses, fisting my jacket with both her hands and pulling me flush against her so that I can feel her soft breasts, her quickly beating heart racing in time with mine right before I crash my mouth to hers.

It's a hungry kiss on both sides: tongues and teeth clash as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in even closer, fisting my hair and alternating between sucking my bottom lip, my top lip and frantically curling her tongue around mine. I feel the frenzied movements of her jaw under my hand; I feel the heat of her mouth absolutely everywhere.

"Bella…"

She moans into my mouth, and I'm lost. I'm gone. My conscience no longer exists. All that exists is the woman kissing me wildly, holding on to me like a lifeline, like I'm the only one who can save her when it's the other way around.

I drop my hands to her shoulders, pushing off that god damn shawl and running my hands over her smooth skin. Jesus, it's even softer than I'd imagined.

"Edward," she breathes, and I grab her bottom, lifting her up, pressing myself against her to keep her in place while I put my mouth on those shoulders. She sighs and arches her back, and I drag my lips shoulder to collarbone to shoulder, sucking on her intoxicatingly sweet skin all the way up her neck until I reach her mouth again. She cradles my face and draws my tongue deep into her mouth, and for an immeasurable moment in time, nothing else exists except her and me, except the heat of her body against mine, and the pent up kisses and touches because we've been holding back for almost two months. Two months of fights and confusion, but whatever else there may be, while her body squirms against mine, while I taste the sweetness of her mouth, I know that this is right. Whatever else may still be there once this kiss is over, _this_ is right, and I'll never again fight against it. Any fight now will be against anything or anyone who ever threatens to try to take her away.

I'm thoroughly and completely addicted.

When she can't take it anymore, she pulls away and throws her head back against the door, panting furiously and grinning the most smugly glorious grin imaginable.

"Oh God," she gasps, "Oh God," over and over. "Oh God, that was..." Her cheeks are flushed bright red; her hair is a wild mess.

"Yeah," I grin, tracing her perfectly swollen lips with my finger. "It was."

"What time is it?" she asks breathlessly.

Dizzy and drunk in a way I've never been in my life, it takes me a couple of seconds before I can read my watch.

"11:56," I respond just as breathlessly.

She grins again. "Okay, I'm convinced, with four minutes to spare."

I chuckle heartily. "Well, let's not waste those four minutes."

And I move in and devour her once again.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**See you all Thursday!**


	15. Chapter 15 - How Fate Begins

**A/N: I'm a little late this morning, aren't I? Let's get to it then. ;)**

**Betad over and over by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 15 – How Fate Begins**

**BPOV**

Angie rummages furiously through her bag.

"What are you looking for?"

"There's gotta be one in here somewhere," she mutters to herself. "Shit, why the hell don't I smoke?!"

I bump her shoulder hard, and she starts laughing.

We're in the middle of a half hour break from our once monthly Saturday morning Comp practice. The kids are all spread out around the studio; talking, laughing, dancing and eating the pizza pies we've ordered - and I've just finished telling Angie about the best fucking date of my life.

"That's so sad about Mel's parents, though," Angie says once we're done cracking up. "Fucking drunks should be drowned in their own vomit."

"Yeah," I agree much more soberly. "I get the feeling there's a lot more to the story, but," I shrug, "he'll tell me the rest when he's ready. I'm just glad he told me that much."

"Poor Mellita," Angie says, shaking her head, "to have lost both her parents and when she's at that age. No wonder she clings to you."

"What do you mean she clings to me?"

"Bella, mi amor, you're more like her big sister than her dance teacher at this point. I mean, you've always been so maternal, always taking care of the kids around here," she smiles. "That's why they love you so much."

"They love all of us!"

"They love me because they like hearing me curse in Spanish," she smirks. "They love Jake cuz he's got that great ass, they love Jessica cuz she's clumsy as hell and watching her trip over herself is fucking hilarious, but they love you because you're pretty and warm and so fucking sweet to them. And you're even sweeter to Mel. Hell, half of the time, you treat that kid like she's yours."

"I just," I shrug, "I don't know. I feel her, you know? I mean, I know it's not the same. She lost both her parents. My mom is still kickin' it somewhere and I've always had Charlie, but...there's this connection…"

Angie smiles softly. "Bellita, you don't need to explain it. It is what it is. I mean, yeah, it's fucked up how she lost her parents, but…maybe fate's at play here for you somewhere…"

"You mean her parents were hit and killed by a drunk driver all so that she and her uncle could come into my life?" I snort. "No offense, Angie, but that's a really messed up way to see things."

"No, Nena, that's not what I mean," she rolls her eyes. "But you can't deny that there's some powerful shit going on here. I see it in your eyes when you look at her. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you," she says quietly. "It's like…somewhere…all this was already determined."

We hold each other's gaze quietly.

"Anyway," she claps her hands once, "finish telling me about this date. _Bendito_," she grins, "how the hell are you even _walking_ this morning, much less dancing? If that's how he kissed you, I can only imagine how he fu-"

I cut her off before she can get too far ahead of herself. "We didn't go _that_ far. We kissed for a while longer, a _long_ while longer," I giggle, "and then I went upstairs, and he went home."

"_Que_? What? You let that man go home without a proper fuck? _Tu 'stas loca_? Are you crazy?"

"Angie…I'm not ready for that. And besides, we just had our first date last night!"

"Hold up," she says, putting a hand up to halt me. "See, that's where you're wrong. You two have been dating for weeks now; you were just both too _pendejitos_ to know it. That's how _I_ knew he'd finally wake the fuck up if he found out you were going out with another man. No way in hell Papi Chulo was gonna let _his_ woman be wined and dined by some other asshole!"

She makes me laugh despite her insane reasoning. "I should really kill you for that." I smirk. "But I won't."

"I know you won't," she snickers.

"But seriously," I say much more soberly, "before Edward and I get that far, I'd have to tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"About me, obviously. About the things I did when I was with Eli. About the kind of…relationship we used to have."

She glares at me incredulously. "Now why the hell would you have to tell him any of that? Bella, that's your past," she cries. "You don't need to tell anyone about that!"

I'm shaking my head as she's talking. "It wouldn't be fair to him."

"Bella!" she says, "You think he don't have a past? You think we don't _all_ have a past? But that's where it stays; in the past!"

I look down at my hands. "I feel like that would be…dishonest," I admit quietly. "I mean, Angie, it's not like I just…slept around. It was an entirely different lifestyle, an entirely different _world_!"

Her hand is suddenly over mine. She strokes it tenderly. "Bella, I know you want to be honest, but first, Sweetie, you need to get past all that. I know you. If you were to tell Papi Chulo about all that now, before you've gotten past it yourself, you'd be a mess, and you'd ruin this before it even gets a chance to get started. Once you two have been together, _really_ together, for a bit longer, then you can get into confessions and shit. Believe me, he's a man; that's exactly what he'll be doing: waiting 'til he's got you nice and secure before he springs his own skeletons on you."

"He wouldn't do that. He told me he needs some time, but I'm sure whatever skeletons he has aren't anywhere near as….scary as mine."

The thing is, I _can't_ have sex without seeing all those images…without remembering it all…without feeling…wrong…

"So when are you seeing him again?"

"Tonight. He's coming over for dinner." I sigh…and then laugh at myself again because I haven't been this excited in a long time.

Angie laughs at my expression too. "Where's Mel going to be tonight?"

"She's with her grandparents 'til tomorrow."

"Good! So you can fuck him good and proper tonight!"

"Angie…"

"Fine, fine!" she frowns. "Well, if you two aren't gonna fuck, then why stay home? You should go out together. Ooh, go dancing at a club or a bar or something! Show that hot-ass man off if he cleans up as nicely as you say he does. Hell, take him all dirty in his tool belt and hard hat; he still looks good!"

"Angie," I chuckle at her exuberance, "I've done the clubbing and partying thing. I need a break from that scene, and you know why. Besides, Edward is working today. He'll probably be tired when he's done, and anyway, he doesn't look like the type who likes partying much. I think he's more of a homebody," I shrug.

"I guess." She looks so disappointed it's almost comical.

"Seriously, how do you go from talking about fate to talking about fucking so quickly?"

She shrugs. "Who says this can't be about both? Maybe your fate is to fuck him."

And then she breaks out into fits again, while I shake my head.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next couple of hours, I force myself to focus on comp practice, but it's so hard to stop thinking about my night with Edward…about that kiss…about our upcoming evening together, and that just adds a completely new level of distraction.

Though what I told Angie is true, that I'm not ready for a sexual relationship, it doesn't mean I don't _want_ to fuck Edward's brains out with every fiber of my being. Last night for example, when he had me up against the wall kissing the shit out of me, the hard-on he had going on…man, oh man. I could feel every last inch…

Fuck, I've got to stop. I'm in the middle of my class grinning like a fool, and I can feel my cheeks already flaming.

"Charlie!" I hear Angie exclaim. When I look up, there's my Dad, standing by the door. Angie runs over to him and gives him a hug.

"Five minute break, Guys," I call out and walk over to my Dad and Angie.

The three of us catch up for a minute, and then Angie walks off to give Charlie and me some Daddy/Daughter time. And as soon as she walks off, he gives me the look, the one that says, _Where have you been? Why haven't you been by? I thought you were going to make an effort._

Feeling all of twelve and completely under his control, I sigh and bite my lip.

Charlie was really young when I was born, only twenty-one. I mean, even when people see us together now, we don't look like father and daughter. His job keeps him physically fit, and Sue makes sure that he eats more than just those fish burgers he's always loved. What's more, I've seen pictures of him on that fateful vacation in Puerto Rico when he and my mom met, and I can see what she saw in him then. And though he's happily married, I can see what women see in him now.

I've sort of put things together over the years. He had two choices once my mom left: either give up and let me run wild, or be father _and_ mother to me. He chose option two – with a vengeance. The one and only irresponsible thing he'd ever done in his life was fall in love with a flighty woman like Renee, marry her and put a baby in her so quickly. He was determined to make up for that. And so despite his status as a single, working dad, I had eyes on me all the time growing up. It was the least he could do for picking such a waste of a mother for me, and it was…suffocating.

"I thought you said you were going to make time to see your old man soon?"

"Dad…I've been really busy with the Studio, and...I had a date last night…"

"A date, huh?" he smirks. "How did that go?"

"Wonderfully," I grin, bouncing on my toes.

"Hmph," he snorts. "Does Eli know?"

My grin fades. "It's none of his business one way or the other, Dad."

Charlie sighs. In his defense, he has no idea who Eli really is underneath the outward image he projects: the young, successful, choreographer slash real estate developer who I once worshipped and who I once thought worshiped me. Eager to break out of the tight confines of my Dad's grip, I embraced Eli's brand of worship blindly, never stopping to think that when someone worshiped you, they revered you. And when they revered you, they didn't allow others to touch.

But whereas Eli introduced me into his dark world and gave me a chance to see what he was really about, my Dad has no idea that world even exists, or how taken in I was by it. All Charlie sees is the charisma, the outside shell, and he admires it. He's been fooled, just like I was.

And the thing is, I can't take those blinders off of Charlie because then I'd have to tell him that the little girl he tried so hard his entire life to protect threw all his protection away, and all his sacrifices were for nothing. He'd find a way to blame himself, and I can't allow that.

"We're business partners, Dad," I sigh impatiently. "That's it."

"Look, Eli can be a pain in the ass. I know it," he says, while I roll my eyes. "He's not exactly easy to work with; has a couple of my subcontracted guys going nuts, but he's made something of himself, Bella. Trust me. That's not an easy thing to do.

My temper flares. "I know it's not, Dad. And I appreciate the help I've received, but I'd like to think I earned some of what I have as well."

"Bells, Hon," he says contritely, reaching for my arms. "I didn't mean it that way. You know I didn't. Of course you've earned what you have. I just meant that someone like Eli might be good for you, Bell. I don't want you to have to struggle the way I did, the way we both did when you were a little girl."

I snort and drop my head. I know Charlie had it rough when I was younger. I remember those late nights when he'd come home so exhausted he'd barely be able to mumble two words to me before dropping into bed. Nights when it was our neighbor Sue who took care of me, who made sure I ate and did my homework.

And this is why I sometimes look at Mel and see myself.

"So you want me to take the easy way out," I sneer.

He shakes his head. "No, Honey, of course that's not what I meant. I just want you to be happy."

"Then trust me when I say, Dad, that Eli isn't the path to that happiness."

He searches my eyes, and for a second he narrows his, as if he's starting to see the truth in there, and for that same second, I consider letting him see it all.

But this is my father, and no matter what, I wouldn't be able to take it if I ever saw shame in his eyes.

So I break our gaze and look down.

He sighs again. "Look, Hon, I haven't seen you in a while. Let's not argue. I've got a crew working not too far from here. Come meet me after work, and we'll go home together. Sue's anxious to see you too. She'll make your favorite dinner?"

He sounds so hopeful it makes my heart clench, and I look up at him with a rueful smile. "I don't want to argue either. I promise I'll come see you and Sue next weekend, but…I can't tonight."

"Another date?" he asks, quirking a brow.

"Yes," I say softly, "another date. You'd like him, Dad. He's…a lot like you."

"Mm," Charlie grunts. "Do I get to meet this guy?"

"Maybe I'll bring him next week?" For a second, I consider the possibility that I'm moving too fast here. What if Edward doesn't want to meet my Dad just yet?

But then I remember what Angie said, and yeah, I think it's kind of true. Edward and I have been doing this…dance with each other for a while now. And he's important enough to meet my Dad.

Charlie smirks again. "Well, I guess I'll deal with some guy around if it means I get to see you."

"He's…" – I bite my lip – "He's got a niece he's raising. She lost her parents. So it would be him and his niece at dinner."

"How old is this niece?"

"Twelve going on twenty," I grin.

"Hm. Instant family," he states dryly.

"Like Sue got with you and I, but you're moving kind of fast here, Dad."

I can tell he wants to say something more, but he's obviously anxious to have me come over, so the words remain unsaid.

"Next weekend, Bell," he says, waving a finger in front of my face like he used to when I was thirteen, "I'm holding you to it."

"Okay, Dad," I agree, ignoring the child-like reprimand.

"Like I said, I'll probably be around here for the rest of the week. Gotta keep an eye on the site for a while. Eli can be…a bit hard to work with, and I think a couple of the guys are ready to beat his ass."

I can't resist chuckling loudly.

Charlie smirks. "So maybe we can make time during the week for lunch?"

"Alright, Dad," I exhale, "but just you and I. No Eli."

"No Eli," he agrees.

OOOOOOOOOO

My loft isn't exactly a mess, but it's not exactly the neatest thing around either. Let's just say that Martha Stewart won't be featuring my space on her next cover spread.

So when I get home that afternoon, I spend the next hour or so cleaning, neatening up as much as possible. There's only so much I can do, though like at the dance studio, my loft is a great, big space with not much added to it. The studio needs some color, some life added to it, and the loft…my bedroom specifically, is wide open with no walls or divisions to separate it from the rest of the living area. The spare room upstairs where Mel and I spend so much time can also use some sort of makeover; some sort of division or organization, I don't know. I've never been good at this sort of stuff. I know if I took the time and effort with both, they could be some beautiful spaces. My dad has even offered to help a couple of times, put in some walls and stuff, but I haven't had time…and I honestly haven't had the inclination for a while.

But today…this afternoon, as I step back and take stock of my loft, and as I think about the studio as well, I can picture things I haven't been able to picture before. My world is full of possibilities since last night, and…

I'll have to figure something out.

OOOOOOOOOO

Once I've done the best I can with the loft, it's time to get myself ready. I check my cell phone first to see if there are any messages from Edward because he said he'd text me when he was ready to leave work. There are no messages though, so I take a quick shower, and once I'm out, it's time to sort through my wardrobe.

What the hell do I wear?

Yesterday, I couldn't figure out what to wear because I couldn't have cared less. It was only a promise to myself to make the most of things that got me to cooperate and go out with James at all.

Today, outfit after outfit gets tossed out of my closet, out of my drawers because I _need_ to look good! In fifteen minutes, I've got a mountain of clothes on my bed, and none of them are right.

I'm standing in front of my mirror in a red, strappy dress Angie gave me last Christmas. It hits me mid thigh and is about ninety percent spandex, hugging every curve on my body. I shoot off a picture to Angie, and she responds right away that I look fuck-hot.

But fuck-hot to Angie means that I look like I want to get fucked.

So I reach down and pull off the dress, standing in front of the mirror in my black lace panties and bra. I stroke the soft lace on my thigh with one finger…imagining that it's Edward's finger, imagining all the places it could go. My finger trails to the inside of my thigh, and my heart rate picks up, my breathing becomes more labored. I watch myself dragging my fingers against my skin, pretending the fingers are rough, callused at the tips as they near the apex…

With a frustrated huff, I unclasp the bra and shimmy out of the panties because it's _too_ soon.

Instead, I throw on a pair of boyshorts and a sports bra, and over that I slip on a pair of black yoga pants and a one of my loose, gypsy shirts. Then I towel dry my hair, add a bit of serum to it and shake it out.

There.

This is how Edward has seen me for the past few weeks. And somehow…he's liked it. A lot it seems. And I don't want to present myself as someone I'm not now that we're finally getting somewhere.

This is me. Bella Maria Swan. Take me or leave me.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm seasoning the steak when my cell phone beeps. My heart starts racing before I can get to the text.

**Hey. I'm leaving work now. Are we still on for tonight?**

**Of course! What time do you think you'll be here?**

**I've got to stop by my place and take a shower and change. About an hour?**

Jesus. One hour. Edward will be here in one. hour.

**Sounds good. See you then.**

**Okay. Do you need me to bring anything?**

**No, thanks. I've got it. **And then I add: **Can't wait to see you**.

Right away:

**I can't wait to see you either.**

OOOOOOOOOO

I've got some quiet music playing in the background. The steaks and the plantains are warming in the oven, the salad just needs to be tossed, and I'm taking the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc out of the wine cooler so that it's not too cold, when the doorbell rings and with a little yelp, I almost drop the wine.

I fluff up my hair as I walk to the door, smooth down my blouse, check my breath. Damn, I should've gone with the red dress. What was I thinking wearing this? I look like I'm getting ready to go to the studio. He's going to think I didn't care enough to try. I look back at the bedroom and consider breaking into a run and throwing on the dress. The doorbell rings again, and I accept that the exercise outfit will have to do.

There's this gasp that's just dying to fly out when I open the door and in walks Edward.

See, Edward looked absolutely gorgeous last night in his dark slacks and v-neck sweater; he resembled a model who'd just stepped out of a J. Crew ad or something, and based on the numerous heads that turned in our wake, I wasn't the only one who thought so.

But it was night time. It was dark. When I met him out in the street, it was dark. In the truck, it was dark. At Max Brenner's, it was dark. At the park, it was dark. When he pushed me up against the door downstairs and rammed his tongue in my mouth, it was dark.

But now…in the bright, recessed lighting of my loft…I have him in all his clearly visible glory.

He's wearing a pair of jeans, but these aren't work jeans. They're dark blue and clean and loose around his hips yet fitted enough to outline how lean he is. His crisp, blue polo is unbuttoned at the neck, exposing a few wisps of reddish brown hair at the top of his chest. The short, black leather jacket from last night has made another appearance; he's got the sleeves pushed up a bit, baring his wrists and the light, wisps of hair there. He's completely clean, like he was yesterday, copper hair brushed back, though he doesn't seem to have shaved today, and for that, I'm ever so grateful because I can already feel that hair scruff on my neck and shoulders and…

When he takes another step closer to me, I smell soap and detergent and maybe a hint of cigarettes and it's…mouth-watering.

So when he leans into me, my heart stops. I see his face moving closer to mine, and I can't help wondering what he's going to do. Maybe it should be obvious, but this dude's dissed me more than once despite the steamy-as-fuck make-out session last night, so I'm admittedly still a bit wary. Nonetheless, as his mouth nears mine, my eyes automatically flutter closed, and I hold my breath…

Releasing it into his mouth when I feel his soft lips. As that perfect mouth gently brushes against mine, his teeth ever so smoothly tug my bottom lip, urging me to open up for him, and when I do, he brushes his minty tongue against mine with just a couple of gentle strokes…then he gradually pulls away.

I slowly open my eyes again, and I'm sure I'm beaming. He's gazing at me, holding out something.

"These are for you," he grins almost sheepishly. "I didn't want to be predictable with the flowers again," – I keep the fact that he's anything but predictable to myself – "and I know you like chocolate…" His hand rakes through his hair in what I already recognize as his go-to nervous action.

I blink away from him and slowly smile down at the red box with the orange signature.

"Jaques Torres!" I exclaim. "Oh yeah! I love these!"

"I thought you might," he chuckles while I open up the box. Twelve small truffles are nestled inside in three rows of four chocolates. I know the trendy shop by the waterfront where he got these. They're popular, delicious – and pricey.

I look up at him and sigh. "Thanks…but you didn't have to get me anything, Edward."

"I know I didn't have to," he says pointedly, "but I wanted to."

Yeah, he's got his pride. I'm aware of this, and I'm not going to risk injuring it.

So holding his eyes, I pop one in my mouth, grinning.

"_Oh_," I moan, chewing it slowly. "Oh man! Oh!"

He chuckles lowly, watching me enjoy. "Good, huh?"

"You want one?" I hold out the box to him.

He shakes his head, a half grin on his beautiful face, and I can tell he's pleased by my reaction.

"Come on, come in," I coax him, tilting my head towards the loft.

"Uh…should I take off my shoes?"

I look down at his feet. He's wearing sneakers; nice, clean ones, but I'm barefoot.

"Yeah. Get comfy."

He looks at my feet and grins before using one foot to push the shoe off the other, and leaving him to it, I walk ahead, listening for his footsteps. I hear his soft socks on the wood floor, his swaggered, steady walk following me, and it hits me that it's just him and me, and I'm just like…floating or something.

Still, I have to sneak a peek back to confirm he's really here, and when I do, for once his eyes aren't on my ass. He meets my gaze, holding it so tightly that I finish my walk into the kitchen backwards, unable and unwilling to break the connection.

"You look great," he tells me in this low, surreptitious voice while at the same time backing me up against the counter. "I like you like this."

"Like what?" I smile flirty-like, tilting up my head because he's so close.

He reaches out and fingers the edge of my off-the-shoulder shirt right where it falls off my shoulder. His eyes follow his fingers as they begin stroking my bare skin.

"Comfortable. In your little shirts." He meets my gaze and smirks. "Sexy."

"Thanks," I reply breathlessly, feeling the blush crawling up my cheeks, and remembering that he likes my blush – which makes me blush all the more. Still, it's instinct to look away when I feel my face getting hot. But then his other hand tilts up my chin to meet his gaze again.

"Love that blush," he murmurs.

Oh fuck. I sigh unevenly because I don't know if I'm going to last through the night without jumping him.

So I sort of chuckle, but it comes out like this weird, shaky sound, so I slide myself around him because we haven't even gotten to the dinner portion of the evening yet and we should at least eat before we…you know…do anything else.

"You look good too," I say, gripping onto the counter, heart pounding. "I like you in that shirt and those jeans and that jacket…I really like that jacket." Then I start laughing because I'm babbling and I know I sound ridiculous.

"Thanks. I should probably take it off though, right?" He smiles, and he suddenly sounds almost as nervous as I feel as he takes off the jacket and places it on a stool.

"Do you want something to drink? I've got soda, beer, water."

"I'll have some water, thanks."

"Water? Alright." I walk to the fridge and open it, looking in and attempting to cool off my face with the arctic blast that hits me because my entire body is burning with anticipation. "I've got plain or flavored, or seltzer, or San Pelle-"

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands tightens around my waist and spins me around, and everything becomes a blur. The next thing I know, the fridge door is getting slammed shut, and I'm being pushed against it. Cool steel is against my back while Edward crashes his warm body and mouth to mine.

Though it's been less than twenty-four hours and it's only happened once before, I realize I've been holding my breath all day waiting for him; for this. Craving this feeling; this never-ending want and need that absolutely consumes me when he kisses me this way.

He moves his mouth urgently and undeniably demanding over mine. I fist his shirt in my hands while he slides his long fingers against either side of my neck, thumbs stroking my cheeks, massaging my jaw, urging me open for him while he slides his tongue inside. My legs give out, but he pushes one of his legs between mine to hold me up. When my knuckles make contact with his hard abs, I can't resist gliding my hands up and under his shirt. His warm stomach contracts, and he hisses into my mouth, and I can feel the smooth, hard plains of his skin.

It's like total sensory overload: touching, tasting, feeling, smelling and seeing him, and I'm bewildered, not knowing know what I want to touch the most: his abs, his arms, his shoulders, his hair, so my hands trail from one to the other frenziedly, back and forth and back again.

And he seems to feel the same disorientation because while his mouth devours mine, he cradles my face, then drops his hands back to my hips, grips my waist so tight it's almost painful in the most delicious way before they're back around my face, then in my hair...

It's acute; earth-shaking. The earth is actually shaking. It's this need. This pull. It's like we're standing over a volcano waiting for the impending explosion; feeling the building heat.

When we finally pull away from each other's mouths, we're both panting.

"I'm sorry, but I feel like we need to make up for lost time," he breathes, chest heaving against mine. "And I couldn't take the…tension anymore," he grins.

"Mm," I half mumble, half giggle, giggle-shaky. I want to tell him that there's nothing to apologize for, but I can barely see straight, much less speak. It kinda feels like I'm coming down from some sort of…semi-orgasm. Shit, Angie's right: if just his kisses do this to me…

"I guess this is one way to break the tension," I finally manage to murmur.

"Yeah." His eyes sear into me while he runs the tips of his fingers up and down my lower spine, making me shudder. "It is."

"I've got to be honest with you, Edward. I'm not really…good at dates," I admit. "I'm not quite sure how these things are done."

He snorts. "Neither am I."

"But you're doing so wonderfully now. And did really great yesterday," I tease him, lifting a brow. My senses are slowly returning, and though he still has me pressed up against the fridge, I don't plan on moving.

"With four minutes to spare," he smirks.

"I would've given you a few extra minutes if you'd needed them. I'm very understanding."

"I know you are." He searches my eyes, still holding me so, so tightly, and he gets one of those looks I've seen on him a few times, like he's getting ready to say something big.

"Bella…I've got to be honest with you too. There's still…a lot we have to talk about."

"Okay," I sigh, and I swear I'm trying to focus, but that semi-orgasm, it's pretty mind-blowing. "So we'll talk."

"Okay," he grins softly, tracing my lips now with two fingers.

"You sure you want to talk?" I chuckle. "Or even eat?"

He throws his head back and laughs, and Jesus, he's a beautiful man. But then he looks at me again and smiles softly.

"Yes, I'd like to eat if you don't mind feeding me. Dinner smells delicious."

"It's ready," I murmur. "I've just got to toss the salad. You can get the steaks and plantains out of the oven and set them on the table."

"Plantains. I haven't had those in a while."

"Have you ever had them home-made?" I smile.

He shakes his head.

"Well then, you're in for a treat."

His deep, green eyes crinkle at the corners, sweet and relaxed, yet still intense, and though I'm still afraid of what he'll see, though deep inside I know that at some point I'll have to break this magic spell and tell him the truth about myself, I feel more at ease with him than I've ever felt.

We'll be okay. I feel it deep in my heart. This…thing between him and me, it's too strong, too real, and I haven't had real in…well, I've never had real. Maybe it is…fate.

So, so slowly, he dips his head low and captures my mouth again, but this time his kisses are light, gentle ones. After just a few, brief seconds, he pulls away.

"I'll grab the steak and plantains," he winks.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Loving your thoughts so much, guys. RL is really hectic lately, but I'll try to get back to you all as soon as possible. :)**

**Date continues on Monday. ;)**

**Translations:**

_**Pendejitos**_** – dummies**

_**Tu 'stas loca**_** – Are you crazy?**

_**Bendito**_** – Bless me**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	16. Chapter 16 - The Craving

**A/N: Hope everyone had a great weekend. The weather thawed out a bit here in the Northeast, but the Polar Vortex is expected to return tonight so I'm hoping someone can please send some warmth and sunshine our way. Please? No? Well, here you go. I'll try to send some you way. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 16 – The Craving**

**BPOV**

We have a really nice dinner. A great dinner. That kiss…the one against the fridge seems to have eased the nervous tension a bit on both sides. Edward seems more comfortable tonight, less brooding and…haunted. I think last night also helped do that for the both of us.

He tells me a little bit more about his older brother, Jasper, who is Mel's dad, and his older sister, Rosalie, the beautiful blonde, whom I met the other day. Just a couple of sentences in and it's obvious that he worshiped his brother while the relationship between him and his sister seems a bit rocky. It's just a glimpse of a life I'm only starting to get to know, but it feels like he might finally be letting me in, and it's exhilarating. I feel like a kid in a candy store, except instead of jelly beans I get Edward's life as a treat.

"You're the baby of the family, then?" I tease him.

"I suppose," he snorts.

"What's that like, having an older brother and sister? I'm an only child myself. I don't even have first cousins. My parents were only children too."

He holds my gaze while he takes a drink from his glass of water. "It was cool at times, I guess. Though later on, Jasper and Rose were more like my parents than siblings. Suppose that's why I get on Rose's nerves so much now. Didn't make things too easy for her when I was a teenager."

"What were you like as a teenager?"

Edward rubs his jaw hard with his palm. It's another action I'm starting to learn means he's beginning to feel uneasy.

"You know, a bit…wild I suppose. Jasper reined me in, didn't let me go too nuts. But he had his own life."

"But your mom…she was still around for a while, right?"

He shakes his head. There's a cold, impassive look on his face while he stares down at the glass in his hand. His knuckles look kind of tight and white around it.

"She was rarely ever really around. Not in the…" – he sighs, grimacing – "emotional sense I guess you'd call it. She never got over my father's leaving. He was…well, he had his own issues. I don't really remember him."

He's quiet after that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No." Though his head is still turned down, he lifts his eyes to me, long eyelashes fluttering as he blinks himself into the present with a deep breath. "No, it's fine. You're right. It does feel better to talk, even about this."

I offer him a small nod and smile.

Despite his assurance, he's a bit more careful for the first few minutes after that. It starts to feel like I'm dragging words out of him again, but then he relaxes once more, and pretty soon we're laughing and he's telling me more about Jasper, but this time there's a grin on his beautiful face while he regales me with stories of the mischief they used to get into together.

"You haven't talked about him in a while, have you?"

He sobers up again, but only slightly. The grin is still there, just quieter. "No, I haven't."

"How come?"

He doesn't answer right away. "It's been…hard you know? With Mel. It's kind of like what we spoke about yesterday. She gets upset whenever they're mentioned so I try not to do it too much."

"Edward…maybe the way to get her past that is by mentioning them, by remembering them, even if it upsets her at first. Kids don't always know how to handle things, and sometimes…they need to be pushed a bit. I mean, that's how the kids at the Studio are sometimes. They think they can't do something, so I just push 'em. Not too much; just enough to show them that they can't just sit there and not _try_."

He stares silently down at the table between us, and I start feeling like maybe I should just shut it and mind my business because I don't want to ruin this; this beautiful night. But at the same time, when it comes to Mel, I have a hard time not saying what I think.

"Sometimes it's hard to know when to push and when not to; when it's the right moment, the right time to say something, and when to just leave it alone," he finally murmurs, scrubbing a hand up and down his face before raking it through his hair.

"How about Rose? Does she talk to Mel about her parents? She's got three kids, right, so does she help you with advice and stuff?" I feel like a nosy shit, but damn it, the questions just keep coming.

He chuckles humorlessly. "Rose and I tend to clash, especially when it comes to Mel. She loved Jasper and Alice a whole lot, she did, but…I think she's kind of pissed off at them."

"Pissed off at them?" I snort. "Why?"

"Because she can't understand why they left Mel to my care." He shuffles around in his seat before draining his glass of water.

"Why not?" I ask. "So you're a single man, yes, but you're not the first single man to be given full guardianship over a child."

"It's more than that."

"What else is it?"

I've got to say, he's been good at answering my questions because I do realize I'm being a nosy bitch; it's not like I haven't noticed. But like I said, I'm a kid in a candy store, and since when have kids in candy stores been able to control themselves? He's letting me in the door, and I've got my foot wedged in there.

But this seems to be where that foot gets pushed out – at least for now. I can almost see the door closing gently yet firmly in my face, and I want to kick myself.

"So tell me about yourself," he asks, turning it all on me now.

"What do you want me to tell you?" I question with a deep breath and a smile.

"Everything," he grins. "Start at the beginning."

I chuckle, but inside, my stomach tightens into a knot, and I feel like such an idiot and a hypocrite at the same time. Of course it would come back to me. I want him to tell me all, yet I won't tell him anything. I mean I will, but not yet. Not yet.

"Well, I've already told you a bit about my parents and about my childhood."

"You never finished telling me why you stopped visiting your grandmother," he says with a raised brow.

I think about the conversation we had a couple of weeks ago and realize that he's right; we never did get to the end of that tale. Despite the nerves, it makes me giddy that he'd remember that.

"Well," I shrug, "Like I said before, I was about twelve the last time I went, and those last couple of times…I guess I felt resentful at the fact that my mom had remarried and moved to Arizona and hadn't thought about me again. It wasn't my grandmother's fault, I realize that now, but when you're that age, when you've got all these things going on inside, you can be pretty self-centered. And my Dad…I mean I don't blame him either because he'd just remarried and had all these other things to think about, but he didn't really push the issue either. He'd never been too happy about sending me in the first place. He's always preferred to keep an eye on me himself."

I reach out over the table and take his hand, weaving our fingers together. His eyes fall to our hands, but then he looks back up at me, listening intently, and I realize that I love the way he listens to me lately; with his entire being.

"See, that's why I think it's important to give Mel a bit of a push, Edward. Sometimes…sometimes you have no idea what you're doing, especially when you're a kid that young, and you just need someone to wake you. Otherwise, you go through life with all these…regrets. I don't want Mel to wake up one day and realize she spent so many years resenting the way she grew up and in the process did things she'll never be able to undo."

He studies me thoughtfully, and I can tell how seriously he's pondering my words because he's nodding as if I've solved the world's problems.

"You're absolutely right, Bella," he eventually nods. "I never thought of it that way. Jesus, that's the last thing I'd want for her…"

We're quiet for a few minutes while he stares off into space, our hands still joined. Then he looks at me again.

"So you haven't seen your grandmother since you were twelve?"

I shake my head. "I speak to her sometimes, over the phone, but it's kind of hard with the language barrier."

"I thought you spoke Spanish."

"I understand it very well, but I don't really speak it, not well at least. I really just know some basic phrases, lots of curses thanks to Angie," I chuckle.

He nods. "Your accent is perfect though."

"Well, it's in my blood," I smile. "The accent, the temper, the year-long tan I don't have to work on."

"It's a nice tan," he grins a bit salaciously, his eyes clearly raking me over and making me shiver.

"Thanks," I chuckle, feeling my cheeks flame again, and now that I know he notices, and likes it, I feel like they do it all the more. I mean hell, I've never blushed _this_ much.

"I love your color," he says as if on cue. "As for your temper, you are pretty feisty. I've experienced that first-hand."

I chuckle heartily. "I'm only half Latina, only half feisty. You want to see feisty, look at Angie."

"I'd rather look at you."

I start laughing loudly, cupping my cheeks because they're on fire, and I know he's doing it on purpose. This…feeling of sweet flirtation is so different from anything I ever experienced with anyone…with Eli and…the others. There was no flirting there. Flirting took the form of blinders and leather straps and flogs and…and it all ended in a room full of quick and hard fucking.

The thought sobers me up pretty quickly. With a sharp gasp, I drop my head as all the exhilaration from just a moment ago flounders.

And then out of my periphery, I see him lean in…he tugs one of my hands off my face, and I try to swallow, but my throat is suddenly so dry.

"Hey," he murmurs. "Bella. Are you okay? Where'd you go?"

Forcing it all back down, I look up and smile at him, and the concern and affection in those deep, green eyes instantly chase away all bad thoughts until he's all that remains. I think maybe that will always be the case.

"I'm right here, Edward. I'm right here."

He searches my eyes for an instant, eyes narrowing.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," I smile wider, because when he looks at me that way, I am. "I'm fine."

His eyes hold me captive for a couple of more seconds, and then he grins, "Good," and presses his mouth softly to mine.

OOOOOOOOOO

We finish our dinner and Edward helps me clear the table and clean up in the kitchen. All the while we talk, sharing these looks and little touches: our hands touch by the sink, our hips graze each other by the fridge. He's cleaning up the table, and I'm wiping down the counter, and we just…look up and right at each other.

It's like now that we've gotten to this point, there's no turning back. We're careening head first and fast, and the hell with the breaks. I think of what Angie said this morning about how Edward and I have been dating for weeks, and we just didn't know it, and I get the feeling that on some level, it's so true.

With everything clean and tidy, Edward slowly stalks towards me again, backing me up against the counter. He gets this…predatory gleam in his deep, green eyes; I'm starting to recognize it, and I know what follows when they darken that way. My heart races in my chest.

"Wait," I breathe shakily just before his mouth claims mine. "Hold that thought."

I turn around and pick up the bottle of wine I have chilling in the bucket. This little thrill runs up my spine as I uncork it at the thought of getting a bit buzzed with Edward and kissing and wine and…I'm already a bit intoxicated.

"It's a wonderful dessert wine," I explain while I pour us two glasses. Then I lift them up and hold one out to him.

He stares at the proffered glass of wine.

And then at me.

And then at the glass of wine again.

And then at me.

And then he reaches out and wraps his hand around mine, the one holding out the glass to him, and eases both my hand and the glass down over the top of the counter.

With a profound breath, he shakes his head.

"You don't drink wine."

"I don't drink wine."

The way he holds my eyes…demanding once again; as if he's willing me to see something…

My brows furrow close together while a scene from a couple of weeks ago replays itself in my head…and another scene from earlier tonight…and…now…

"You don't…drink."

His Adam's apple bobs up and down. "No."

My hands are still wrapped around both glasses of wine, his is gripped tightly over the counter while I hold up my own glass in front of me.

"My father…was a drunk. From what I've heard, he used to come home shit-faced every night. Then they used to fight, he and my mom, and one night he didn't bother coming home." He snorts bitterly. "For all we know, he drank himself to death."

I stare at him, my throat dry as the desert, which is just as well because I have no idea what to say. The atmosphere around us has gone from sexy and flirty to the polar opposite. With a shaky hand, I set my wine glass down and see Edward's hand over the counter, twitching, before he lifts it and runs it through his hair.

"Is that why you don't drink? Because you don't want to be like him?"

He locks me tightly in his gaze. "I don't drink, Bella, because once I start drinking, I can't stop."

There's a long stretch of silence while I process what that means.

"You mean you're an-"

"I'm an alcoholic. I've been an alcoholic for about a decade now, though it wasn't until that fucking piece of shit rammed his car into Jasper and Alice that I accepted it."

Despite the blunt harshness of his statement, his voice is cool and almost…monotone; expressionless.

And between what he's telling me, and the impassiveness in his voice, and the suddenly stiff and stoic way he stands before me, I'm having a difficult time breathing. He's still looking at me like he's waiting for something, expecting _something,_ and I have no idea what that might be.

"Uhm…so after…the accident…you stopped drinking?"

He nods. "I haven't had a drink in seven months and seventeen days."

"Oh."

His eyes hold me in an unrelenting grip; persistent, pressing me, and my heart races because I don't know what he's waiting for me to say yet I know that there's a right and a wrong answer here.

"Okay, well…" I exhale, "I guess we'll put away the wine. I've got juice and soda, and you know…plenty of water." I turn around and empty both glasses of wine into the sink, letting the tap water wash it all away.

"Bella."

I turn back around to face him. "What?"

"That's it," he says in a strangely detached tone. "That's all you have to say. There's plenty of water."

"Well, I'm not sure what else you want me to say right now. I mean, give me a few, and I'm sure I'll have plenty of questions, but it seems like putting away the wine would be the first step."

"Bella, this is a disease. It's permanent. There is no cure."

"I mean, I'm no expert, but I do know that much."

He stares at me and then snorts, sticking his hands in his pockets. With a shake of his head, he turns around and walks away a couple of steps, throwing his head up to the ceiling before letting it hang to the floor with a low growl.

He turns again and looks at me, eyes burning. "I don't think you understand…"

I quickly close the space between us. "Hey, I told you, I'm no expert, but I understand what alcoholism is. Now you said you've had it under control since…Jasper and Alice's accident."

"Yes," he replies vehemently. "I have."

"Then I'm not sure what's going on here. Are you trying to push me away again?"

This is when his hands fly out of his pockets and cup my face, pulling me closer.

"No, Bella. I can't push you away," he hisses, his warm breath tickling my face. "I just need to make sure that you understand-"

"That you have a drinking problem. I get it," I say, wrapping my hands around his. "I do. And I can't…imagine what that means for you. I really can't. Not yet. Give me some time to process it, and like I said, I'll probably have a…shit-load of questions, but I'm going here by what you said last night, Edward."

He frowns.

"You said, 'let me show you that you belong with me,'" I repeat for him. "Are you changing your mind about that now?"

My voice is a shaky whisper, but even before I have the entire sentence out, Edward is shaking his head, gripping me tighter.

"No. God, no," he breathes intently. "No. There's this…craving, Bella. It's been there for a long time, and I won't lie, it's still there, but since I met you, there's nothing I want…I _crave_ more than you."

I draw in a few unsteady breaths, locked in his gaze because I _see_ the craving, I feel it in his touch, I sense it thick in the air around us. His need for me is…raw. He's not trying to hide it anymore and it burns me to the core. It calls to me from a few feet away, from across the room. I feel like, little by little, it's binding me to him, and that's why it's hard to understand him when he compares this to a craving for alcohol.

But he says it's under control, and I'll believe that; I'll accept it because it's a part of him and any choice I had to accept or not to accept went out the window weeks ago.

"Then Edward, we put the bottle away, and we go on with our night, and we figure the rest out as we go along because as you said yesterday, it doesn't change anything."

His eyes search mine, moving from one to the other; seeking, penetrating.

And then he crushes me to him.

"Bella…Jesus, Bella, are you sure?" he asks against my neck, warm breath in my ear, holding me so tight to him that I feel his rapidly beating heart over mine while the tightness in his shoulders slackens.

Am I sure of what?

Am I sure I understand?

Am I sure I know what I'm getting myself into?

Am I sure that there's nothing Edward could tell me that would push me away? Am I hoping that he'll be able to separate me from my mistakes too? A Quid pro Quo – I accept your shame, you accept mine?

No, I won't do that to him.

Does that make me selfish? A liar? A hypocrite? A withholder of important information?

Too many questions. I can't figure them out right now.

There's only one thing I know.

I disentangle myself from his hold, and it takes effort because he's holding me so tight. And when I finally manage to pull away, I cradle his beautiful face in my hands. A face full of dark secrets…and hope...and so much strength.

"I belong with you."

He closes his eyes and exhales heavily through his nostrils, and when he reopens them, they're so bright and clear and…peaceful.

"Yes. You do."

There's no hesitancy, no doubts in the way he kisses me. I'm his, and he knows it, and I'm not going anywhere.

"I'll be a good man for you, Bella," he breathes against my mouth, "I swear to you," he hisses, vehemently sucking on my lips.

I'm breathless, consumed by his mouth and his fire, but my own shame…it nips at the back of my mind, like a weed in a field of blooms.

"Edward…Edward…" I pull away and look at him, "Do you think that our past mistakes should get to define us?"

Slowly, he shakes his head. "I sure as hell hope they don't, Bella. I don't intend for them to."

I search his eyes, willing him to see me, to see the truth, to guess at it at least a little the way I just did and _force_ the rest out of me.

But, of course he can't. The truth is something you put in words, the way he just did, the way I'll have to do soon. Angie was wrong. He gave me his truths now because when you want the way he does; when you _crave_, you don't wait. You can't.

Unless you're a coward.

I kiss him hard, swallowing back those words for now. For just a little while longer, and hoping that when I speak my truths, he'll still believe that the past doesn't define us.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**The night isn't over yet. ;)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	17. Chapter 17 - Letting Yourself Feel

**A/N: Welcome back to one long-ass date! LOL. Let's continue, shall we?**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Letting Yourself Feel**

**EPOV**

"Does Mel know?"

"Yeah," I breathe, running my fingers through the length of her hair.

We're out on her balcony, staring out at the skyline across the river. She's got a great view here: skyscrapers and the seaport in the distance. The glass windows of the almost complete Freedom Tower shine in the darkness while the lights from the Brooklyn Bridge glow in the horizon.

And I feel like I'm seeing it all through new eyes. There's this…lightness inside of my chest. A sense of peace radiates inside me. They're sensations I haven't felt in…a long time. My head feels clear; there's no indecision, no indecisiveness clouding it. My entire system overflows with relief.

She does this to me. She makes my head spin yet fills it with serenity.

She knows. She accepts.

Bella stands against the railing in front of me. She's thrown a hoodie on because it's mid-November, and yeah, I'm sure it's fucking cold, but I don't, I _can't_ feel any of it. I've got my arms wrapped around her waist to keep the wind off her back, pressing her against me, trying to keep her warm and keeping myself warm with the heat that emanates off of her. My hands grip her tight, never wanting to let go because I still can't believe that she knows. She knows, and she's okay. She accepts it.

She accepts me.

"And your sister?"

I nod against the crook of her smooth neck. "She knows," I whisper, kissing her throat softly and smiling against her skin when I feel her shudder.

"Yeah, that's a dumb question. Of course they'd know."

"It's not a dumb question. I kept it from everyone for a long time."

She turns herself around in my arms. The wind blows her dark hair over the balcony while the lights from across the river shine in her depthless eyes.

"So, who else knows?"

"The people closest to me, I guess. Emmett. Carlisle. He's my sponsor. A couple of the guys at work," I shrug. "It's not necessarily a secret; I just don't…advertise it."

She nods. "I understand. But…did you tell Mel not to tell me? Because I feel like there were a few times there…"

She asks lots of questions. About everything. But it's okay. I mean, it's kind of strange, and it sure as hell is different from any other girl I've ever been with. But it's good. It's _all_ good because this is Bella.

Beautiful, perfect Bella.

I shake my head. "No. I think she just kind of figured…"

"Yeah, I get it. I get it," she nods. "She was looking out for you. So do you go to meetings and stuff?"

Again, I nod, fisting the back of my neck. "Yeah, uh…that's usually why I'm late to pick up Mel."

"I thought you were working?" she frowns.

"I _was_ working late for a couple of weeks…" – for a split second I debate telling her that her asshole ex owns the site where I've been working and that his bullshit cost me financially a few weeks ago, and it's what kept me working late for a couple of weeks after.

But hell, we've got enough to deal with tonight, and it's only our first date. How much can I push this girl in one night before she kicks me the hell out?

I don't want to find out.

"I had something I had to finish up at work, but usually I'm at my meetings on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays."

"The same nights that Mel comes to the studio."

"Exactly," I confirm.

"Jesus, Edward…why didn't you just tell me?" She grips her hair. "I wouldn't have been such a bitch those first couple of weeks-"

"Hey, you weren't a bitch." There's no room for argument in my tone. "You were absolutely right. It was my responsibility to figure out something regarding Mel. I mean yeah, I guess I could've told you. Part of the…twelve steps is admitting what you are. I just didn't want _you_ to know."

"I would've understood."

"You didn't know me."

"But-"

"You didn't _know_ me."

She holds my gaze carefully and then lifts herself on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck. I press her tightly to me, craving her heat, her proximity and having no idea how I'm going to do without them after our date is over. Even through the thick material of her hoodie and my jacket, I feel her soft breasts crushed against my chest, the fire of her skin, the warmth of her breath tickling my jaw. For a few minutes we just hold each other while her head rests on my shoulder.

"I know you now," she breathes in my ear.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I return to the living room area after taking a long piss (I mean, I did have like four glasses of water during dinner), Bella is standing by the radio, her back to me, messing around with the settings. She's taken off the hoodie, and her shirt is hanging off her shoulder again, and damn, she's shaped just fine from every single angle: tiny waist, an ass I'm going to need both hands to grab when it's time, and breasts that'll fill my palms completely. And those shoulders…I've never had a thing for shoulders, but there's something about hers that make my cock twitch.

I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist again, making a conscious effort not to grab a handful of that ass because I've got a feeling that girls like her don't go for that shit on a first date. She's mine, yeah, but I'll let her set the pace.

"What are we doing now?" I whisper in her ear, enjoying the way I see the skin on her neck prickle when my breath touches her.

She smiles. "I'm putting on some music." Her words are garbled, like she's chewing on something, then I see that she's got the box of truffles set over the stereo.

I chuckle into her shoulder. "Boy, you weren't kidding when you said you liked chocolate."

"Don't laugh at me, Edward! This is why I've got to stay active."

"I could keep you _very_ active." I nip her shoulder, and she squeals, twisting herself around in my arms and resting her hands on my hips.

She holds my gaze, searching my eyes. "I like you like this."

"How?"

"Unrestrained. Letting yourself just…feel." She sighs. "So how about we dance?" she chuckles, hands sliding up my chest and around my shoulders, squeezing.

"Not what I had in mind, but I guess we can work with that," I smirk.

You know when a weight is off your shoulders and you feel like fucking Hercules or Son of the Gods, or Superman leaping tall buildings? That's me tonight.

Bella pretends to scowl, and I chuckle shamelessly, because she's mine and she knows it.

"So what are we dancing to?"

"Well, this is called Bachata. It's sort of like Salsa, but slower, more mellow and…sensual. Do you like Salsa?"

"I don't dislike it," I grin, dipping my mouth close to hers. She inhales unevenly, her eyes growing heavy-lidded, and that look, the reaction she has to me…it adds to that Herculean feeling because I've got the same reaction to her. I slide my hands around her neck, brushing the pads of my thumbs along the soft, honey skin of her shoulders, and she arches into my touch.

Now I've got a hard-on growing.

"Do you know how to dance Salsa? Because if you do, this should be a breeze," she breathes.

"I'm not sure. Maybe."

She chuckles, frowning.

"I _may_ know how to dance it a bit," I try to clarify, but her brow furrows further.

"There's a lot I don't remember from my late teens…early twenties. I…ah…" I rake a hand uncomfortably through my hair while she studies me carefully.

With a soft smile, Bella touches the tip of her finger to my mouth. "Shh. How about I just refresh your memory?"

And this is why she's perfect. I swear. Perfect.

So she takes my left hand and presses her right palm to mine and then takes my right hand and guides it behind her, to the small of her back.

I slip my hand under her shirt and caress her bare skin, slithering my fingers lower. "I'm enjoying this lesson already."

"Be good," she chuckles, dragging my hand back to the small of her back.

"Alright, alright. I will. Look at you; you're in your element now."

"You know it," she smirks.

Then she places her left hand on my right shoulder.

"Okay, are you ready?"

I sigh and offer her a lop-sided grin. "As ready as I'll ever be for a _dance lesson_."

She gives me another fake scowl, her big brown eyes narrowed in feigned frustration.

Beautiful. She's beautiful.

This night is…perfect.

"Alright, keep your spine straight, head up and shoulders back," she instructs in a professional, no-nonsense tone that only manages to make my buddy down below grow harder. But I straighten out as directed, puff out my chest, and when it touches hers, my hard-on springs against my boxers.

She lifts one brow my way.

"I'm just following instructions."

She shakes her head, her pouty lips twitching with amusement. "You're incorrigible tonight." With one more sigh, she finishes her instructions. "Alright, do not look down at our feet at any point."

"Not even at your red toes?" I wink.

"_Ahhh," _she grins_. "_You noticed those."

"Bella, I notice _everything_ about you."

And there's that beautiful blush; the pink that rises from her shoulders, up her neck and spreads into her cheeks. My new addiction.

"Edward, focus and let me focus!" she says through clenched teeth, making me laugh all the more.

"Alright, alright," I say. "I'll focus."

With a deep huff, she continues. "Now looking down at your feet is the clear sign of an amateur."

"Okay. No looking at my feet. Continue."

"Keep your arm bent at a ninety degree angle."

I make a show of adjusting my arm. "Ninety degrees. Got it."

She's into this. There's a completely different feel about her, like she's doing what she was born to do. My beautiful dance teacher.

"Now loosen your hips. You're going to have to move them around a bit, because Latin dancing is all in the hips."

"Loosen the hips, got it." I exaggerate the movement of my hips, and though she rolls her eyes when she looks down at the way they shift, I don't miss the way her lip gets sucked in between her teeth.

"Next, _Miss_ Bella."

"What? Oh, Okay. So we're going to start with both feet together. Like many versions of Salsa, this is an eight-beat dance. The first beat you're going to step to your left with your left foot. Then bring your right foot to your left foot on Beat two, then step left with your left foot again on Beat three, and then hold the fourth beat. So it's left, right, left, hold, right, left, right, hold. Got it?"

"Oh yeah," I snort, though I have no idea in hell what she just said. "I got all that."

"Alright. I'll lead for now, and when I say go, we'll try it. Ready? Go."

So I try to follow her, and I think I'm doing really good here mimicking her movements, but when I try to weave my fingers between hers, she shakes her head.

"Mm Mm," she grins. "Not yet."

Then she stops us.

"Okay. Let's try it again. Go."

So we're doing it all again, and I'm basically just reflecting what she's doing, when she stops us again.

"Hold on the fourth."

"Alright, alright."

Again.

"Hold on the fourth. And don't look down at your feet."

"I'm not looking at my feet, I'm looking at yours."

"You're not taking this seriously," she raises a brow.

"I'm sorry," I chuckle, "but building a fucking house requires fewer steps than this."

"Again," she giggles.

"Alright."

"Hold on the fourth!"

After about twenty times, and lots of yelling and laughing on Bella's part, I finally figure out what the hell she means by hold on the fourth, and after twenty more times, we make it past that.

"Yay," I cheer dryly.

"Don't pat yourself on the back just yet. Now you've got to put your hips into it."

"Oh yeah, the hips. Shit."

"I don't know what crazy shit you were doing in your teens and early twenties, but I'll tell you what, Mr. Cullen, you were _not_ dancing."

I break out into loud laughter because not only can't I believe that she's joking around about the things I've told her tonight, but she actually has me laughing at them. Yet the thing is that there's absolutely no malice, nor thoughtlessness in her teasing. She's not making light of it. She's simply getting us past all that.

And then Bella let's go of my hands and glides her hands firmly up my chest and around my shoulders, looking up at me with this intense expression, and…all laughter ceases because I may lose it in my pants.

"And I need my exercise," she persists in a low, sensual voice that travels straight down my spine and directly into my growing problem, "so you're going to have to learn here."

My heart pounds in my chest. She's everything: sweet, kind, sexy, lustful.

"What happens now, Bella?" I breathe against her mouth, cradling her face so tight between my palms that part of me is afraid to hurt her, to scrape her smooth skin with my rough hands, but I can't let go or loosen my grip. I'm consumed by her in every way, and I want to consume her in return. She's an addiction I don't want to control.

"Now it gets more…_intimate_," she whispers, guiding my hands back into position and moving our bodies unbelievably closer. "And we're going to go back and forth instead of left and right in the same pattern."

I swallow thickly and nod. Our entire bodies are pressed against one another, and I feel her heat _everywhere_.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

This time, when our bodies sway together, there's none of the playful grinning there was in the first part. Our eyes are locked together, while our hips rock against each other in a way I've never experienced.

"Just follow my lead," she says, and I agree wordlessly because I can't speak. I'll follow her lead; her pace. I'll follow her steps…in everything.

She reaches behind her and takes my hand, pressing her palm against mine, and now she does weave our fingers together. Palm to palm, we move in sync while my heart rattles against my ribs.

"Good, Edward," she murmurs encouragingly. "Just like that."

She lifts our hands over her head, hips swaying to the sensual beat, and eyes on mine, turns around so that her back is now flush against my chest and her sweet ass is on my stiff erection. I grunt quietly while she guides our joined hands down low to her hips, dragging them tightly over her thighs…to the top swell of her backside.

"You'll feel the movement here," she murmurs. "Feel them sway."

My fingers dig into smooth flesh, heat exploding from my tips to everywhere else. Everywhere.

"In dance, we have to let ourselves _feel_," she whispers as I splay my hands hip to hip. With an uneven breath, I rest my forehead on her neck because she's swaying, but it's my head that's spinning.

"_Yes_." She elongates the word, and I can picture her making that sound under me; over me. "Like that, Edward. Just like that. It's all about _feeling_," she breathes, angling her face sideways, her mouth close to mine, warm breaths intoxicating me. "Are you ready to _feel_, Edward?"

I swallow thickly and flip her around so quickly she gasps, but our eyes meet and hold, and the naked longing in her gaze takes every last breath out of my lungs.

"Bella…" I brush the back of my fingers over her face, press my mouth lightly to hers. "Yes. Yes, I'm ready to feel."

It's not the dancing. It's not the steps. It's her. It's _us_.

I'm not even sure if we're moving any longer while we stand there for an endless moment, and the soft, Latin rhythms play in the background.

She holds my gaze, and for one second looks as if she's making some sort of internal decision, and I wait for her, mouths touching; lingering, and I know that no matter what it is she's deciding, I'll follow her pace. I'll follow her steps. In everything.

"Stay with me tonight, Edward. Stay with me. I…" She looks down, chest heaving.

"Hey." I lift her chin with one finger. "I thought you said no looking at our feet," I whisper.

She smiles shakily, as if she's sure, but not so sure. "Stay with me tonight. I don't know if…but I know I want you to stay…I…"

I'll follow her pace, in everything, even if it kills me because I've got a feeling an addiction to her just might – in the best possible way.

But I'll never take advantage of her indecision. She wants me to stay. That's all she's asked for. I won't assume more.

So I nod slowly, locked in her chocolate eyes, and pull her against me once more.

"Now finish teaching me."

There was a time…I used to think that Alice was the measure of perfection, but Perfection is here, in my arms…

And now Perfection has a slow smile spreading across her face, her dark, expressive eyes full of lust and longing and excitement.

And with eyes wide open, I latch on to Perfection, to my new addiction.

Claiming her top lip, then her bottom lip, I claim her for my own.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**So yes, it's a long date. Sue me. :)**

**For those of you who know me, you know that this story is nowhere near done. **

**Love reading your reviews. I'm having a hard time getting back to them though because RL is crazy lately, but I promise I'll get back to you all as soon as I can. :) **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a good weekend. See you all on Monday!**


	18. Chapter 18 - She's Sensual

**A/N: So I finally had a chance to get back to reviews, and then caught a nasty bug right in the middle, so...I only made it about halfway through. And since I'm still not feeling too great and can think of nothing witty to say, how about I just give you guys the chapter, okay?**

**Betad my Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Ch. 18 – She's Sensual**

**EPOV**

The dance lessons she's been giving me have morphed into Bella and I just moving back and forth in the middle of her large, living room. At some point, the music shifts to slow songs with words I can't understand, and now…now we just stand here while our mouths meet and taste over and over - sometimes lips, sometimes necks and throats…arms…shoulders…wrists. Sometimes she giggles; sometimes she moans softly while our hands touch, caress and skim. It's slow and sensual, things I've never had, not even with all the crazy shit I've done. And despite the raw passion that simply emanates from her, you'd think this is all new to her too. She gasps when my tongue licks her shoulder; she gazes at me wide-eyed when my mouth skims open mouthed kisses down her arm as if she's never had anyone worship her this way, as if she feels what I do…as if all the chaste kisses and touches thrill and surprise her as much as they do me.

Because despite what we may be feeling, we are keeping things relatively chaste. Yeah, I see how this could easily lead to us finding our way to that open bedroom she's got back in the corner, to the large, four-poster bed I can see from here, on which we'd do more than just sleep. I'm pretty sure that if I pushed, she'd follow. But I won't do that to her because despite the lust in her eyes and the passion in her kisses, I can tell that she doesn't really want it to go there - not yet.

She's asked me to stay. She's sexy, and she grins at me wickedly whenever my cock rubs up against her while we move rhythmically against each other. But I see the relief on her beautiful face when my hands slide over her ribs and stop just below her breasts, or when my mouth sucks on her collarbone and then skims its way back up to her mouth.

We're at a precipice, and we'll take it right to the edge, but she's not ready to fall off of it - not yet.

OOOOOOOOOO

We've ended up on the couch now, me under her, talking and kissing like we've been together for ages instead of just a few hours. Bella squirms, and her hips brush over mine, and I groan painfully into her mouth.

She chuckles and murmurs a "sorry" before pulling away from my mouth. My hands have been lost in her hair for the past half hour or so, and now it looks beautifully thick and wild. I picture myself doing other things to her to get it that way.

Gazing at me through heavy-lidded eyes, she traces my mouth with one finger. When I pucker my lips and softly kiss the tip, she sighs.

"Are my lips as swollen as yours?"

"Yeah," I grin.

"Jesus," she snorts, "I don't think I've ever spent that much time doing nothing but kissing in my life."

As soon as the words are out, her eyes widen and her cheeks flame deep red. She drops her gaze, staring at my chest.

"Is that a bad thing?" I question, lifting up her chin and quirking a brow.

She searches my eyes. "No," she whispers. "No, it's not a bad thing. It's a beautiful thing."

"Good, because I could taste your mouth for days on end," I tell her, alternating between sucking her bottom lip and then her top lip into my mouth before moving to her shoulder. "I could bite your shoulders so hard…" She laughs and cradles my head while I nip and suck on her honey skin, and her heavy breaths float in the air around us. "I could devour you…" I confess before returning to her mouth. "You're perfect."

She exhales on a soft whimper, and abruptly pulls away again, holding my gaze much more intently.

"I'm not perfect, Edward. I'm far from it. I've made mistakes too. I've done things…" She draws in a huge, shaky breath that makes her entire frame shudder over me, and when she drops her head to my chest, I feel her body shaking.

"Hey." I slide my hands around her neck and gently coax her eyes back up, sitting up and bringing her up with me. Resting her sideways over my lap, I wrap my hands around her waist and hold her close.

"Don't call me perfect," she repeats.

I search her dark eyes, suddenly full of so much apprehension.

And she's still shaking.

"Bella," I say, cupping her cheek and dipping my head close to hers. "Hey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I…" – she swallows – "I need to tell you…"

My chest constricts painfully at the terrified look in her eyes, at the resemblance to a deer suddenly caught in headlights.

So I crush her to my chest and wrap her tightly in my arms, and she holds on just as tightly.

"Listen to me, when I say you're perfect, I mean that you're perfect for _me_. I don't care what you've done. I'll never judge you, Bella. What kind of shit would that be if I ever judged you? I'd never, Bella. I'd never."

She tightens her hold on me further, burying her face in the crook of my neck, and it kills me that something has her so petrified.

"You don't know," she breathes into my skin. "You told me…and now I have to tell you…"

"Oh, Baby," I murmur in her ear, pressing her against me so solidly I'm afraid I'll bruise her, but she just tightens her hold all the more so that I no longer know where she ends and I begin.

"Look, if there's something you're not ready to say, don't feel like you have to say it just because of what I told you tonight."

"Edward…" she breathes against my neck, her voice breaking. I close my eyes and swallow thickly, and then lift her head so that her eyes can meet mine again.

"Whatever it is, it won't change the fact that you belong with me," I say, reminding her of what I told her just last night, of what _she_ reminded me of just a few hours earlier.

She sears me with her dark eyes, fisting my shirt. "I belong with you. I do."

I offer her a tender grin. "Then that's all I need to know. If and when you're ready, you'll tell me, but Bella, all I need is you here with me now. All I need to know is that you're mine."

"I _am_ yours; just yours. That's the only kind of relationship I want with you. Where I'm all yours and you're all mine."

"Then we're on the same page," I shrug, a bit confused by that statement. "Bella…I know you've probably got questions about Heidi. I guess Mel must've said something to you; that's why you called her my…fuck buddy," I grimace. "But I need you to know that it's been over for a while."

She nods slowly. "I guess I have wondered exactly what type of relationship you had, or have with her."

"It wasn't a relationship," I sneer. "It was exactly what Mel called it, but it's over now."

"Okay," she says, biting her lip. "Okay." And then she moves in to kiss me…

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I say, gently easing her away. "I'd like some clarification too."

She furrows her brow.

"About _Eli_."

She backs up further, her eyes growing wide again. "What would you like to know?" she asks in a peculiarly even tone.

"Well, he was hanging all over you that day I registered Mel for class. Was he still your boyfriend at the time?"

She shakes her head silently.

"Okay," I say, trying to rein in my temper. "Then what made him feel that he had a right to touch you that way?"

"He's…" – she swallows and looks down, shaking her head – "He's always thought that he has a right to touch me…and to say who else can and can't touch me…"

My nostrils flare. I feel my pulse start to race as blood rushes to my head, pounding between my ears.

"Motherfucker, I should…" I scowl, knowing that all the things I'd like to do and say to that asshole aren't really options, not to the man I'm trying to be now. So instead, I try to focus on continuing this discussion without exploding; without ruining this relationship before it even gets a chance to really take off.

"Edward." Bella's warm hand cups my cheek. "Edward, calm down."

When I open my eyes, Bella is watching me, her eyes full of concern and…wariness.

"Look, I set him straight the last time we saw each other. You don't have to get upset, okay? I haven't even seen him in weeks. Besides, we take care of all our business transactions online." She cradles my face in her hands. "Are you okay? I don't want to upset you."

All the blood that had pooled to my face suddenly drains right out. "Why not?"

"I…I mean…I'm not sure…"

I take a deep breath. "Do you think that upsetting me will make me fall off the wagon?"

When she doesn't respond, I feel the hairs at the nape of my neck prickle. "Bella, I don't want you to spend every moment measuring your words with me. That's not the kind of relationship I want here."

"You're right, you're right." She kisses me anxiously, tugging on my lips when she pulls away. "I'm just…I'm trying to figure this out, okay? Just give me a chance to learn."

So I draw in a lungful of air and try to calm down because she's right. She's been hit out of left field with this. She needs time to learn.

"Don't be afraid to push my buttons, Bella. Mel and my sister do it all the time, and I haven't succumbed yet."

She watches me carefully for a split second, and then a slow grin spreads across her face.

"Pushing your buttons is apparently what the women in your life do best."

"Yeah, you're all really great at it," I smirk, and then kiss her again, just a couple of light brushes because I haven't forgotten what we were talking about.

"Bella, since that mother…Eli…seems to think that he has rights he no longer has," I hiss, "I need to make sure that he knows that's not the case anymore."

"Edward-"

"No, Bella. I'm not going to start trouble. I promise you that, but next time I see him, I _will_ have a talk with him."

But Bella looks terrified again. She covers my cheek with her hand. "Just promise me one thing, Edward. Before you speak to him…there are things I have to tell you, but…but I…just need a little more time," she falters.

I pull her into my arms again, and now I'm really starting to burn up here.

"Shh, relax, Baby," I murmur, running my hands down her hair. "Okay. Okay. You and I will talk again before I speak to him," I promise her. "Just answer me one thing, and the rest can wait," I say as calmly as possible before pulling her away one more time to meet my eyes. "Did he hurt you?"

Because if he did, I'll kill the motherfucker.

She shakes her head slowly, and fuck, I'm not really convinced. I'm not convinced, but she's telling me no, and I just told her she doesn't have to tell me tonight and that we'd speak again before I spoke to Eli. I have to wait, and I have no idea how I'm going to be able to keep myself from doing something stupid next time I see him at the site. She hasn't actually told me anything, but her reaction is enough to make my blood boil.

"Alright. Alright," I repeat as serenely as I can manage. "Alright."

But I must not be doing such a great job at hiding my increasingly growing fury. My hands are in fists, digging into my sides. Bella reaches down and takes them both, weaving her fingers through mine.

"You said all you needed right now was me with you here and to know that I'm yours. I'm here, Edward, and I'm yours." She dips her head and presses her soft lips to mine. "I'm yours," she breathes.

And when her mouth is on mine, everything else fades away.

Her warm tongue slides inside, and I untangle our hands, so that I can lay my palms flat on her back to pull her in closer. She reaches up and fists my hair and I groan at the feel of her, at the taste of her: sweet like honey, mouth soft as silk. She soothes the monster threatening to rage. She calms the storm. She's sunshine in the middle of the tempest, and that's why I need her...that and so much more.

She raises herself up, and I hold her close because I can't be inside yet so I'll take the next best thing, but she pushes me away, not too much yet enough for it to be too much. So I give her some space, just enough so that she can move each of her legs to cradle my thighs, straddling me, and then she comes close again...close...close...and down.

I gasp sharply, hissing into her mouth. Her tongue dances against mine. She kisses like she moves.

She rocks like she dances, rhythmic; pressing up against where I'm throbbing. Soft fingers alternate between fisting my hair and caressing my scalp. When I thrust against her, hungry groans fill the air, hers and mine.

She rocks like she dances.

Slow and sensual, she pushes and I pull; back and forth creating our own erotic beat, our own raw tempo. I feel her searing heat through my denim. It begs for me, and I beg for it while the friction that her dancing creates drives me mad with need.

"Bella…" I breathe shakily.

And she rocks …God, she rocks…she rocks and she grinds…just like she dances.

The tempo picks up. Our kisses and tongues move erratically; frenzied. My hands snake under the hem of her shirt, palms splayed against her steamy skin, fingers digging into the grooves of her spine while she grinds harder, and I meet her thrust for thrust because she's already taught me how she likes my hips to move.

My mind is in the most perfect chaos. I can think of nothing beyond the woman dancing faster and faster on my lap, her breasts crushed against my heaving chest, soft as cushions, and I'm throbbing so hard I'm about to explode.

"I'm gonna…you're gonna make me…"

"Yes, Edward…I know…I want you to."

She swallows my groan, and whimpers into my mouth, undulating over me while my fingers dig harder, eyes pinching shut, trying desperately to keep myself from reaching down and ripping open my fly, splitting her pants because I can feel her heat, the wetness that makes her rock harder.

She sways, and I spin, and I have a feeling it'll always be this way for us.

"I've never…" – I drag my mouth away from her mouth to her ear, open-mouthed down her neck and throat, nipping the burning skin on her shoulder. My entire body trembles with want and need for the woman in my arms. "I've never wanted…like I want you…I've never…felt…like this…"

She wraps her hands around my face, and she moves so, so good. She's a dancer in every way and she's _mine_. She's _my_ dancer, and I'm going to come in my pants, and I don't care. I don't care.

"I want you too, Edward. God, I want you, but just…just this for now, okay?" She rests her forehead on mine, her pleas barely audible breaths punctuated by soft whimpers. "Just like this for now...like this."

Nodding, I drag my hands down to her ass and squeeze and knead hard before driving my hips up and pulling her down. She cries out and arches her back, her mouth falling open while she holds my gaze through onyx eyes, riding it out before she crashes her mouth to mine, sliding her tongue wildly inside and I can't hold off any longer. I bury my face into her neck and grunt at the heat and the pressure and the fucking euphoria.

"Edward…" It's just a breath, just my name in a breath, but it brings me back. Her hands are soft in my hair now, kneading and massaging. Then she wraps her arms around me so securely, as if she wants to hold on as much as I do, as if she's as addicted as I am and rests her head on my shoulder. I shudder in her embrace while the aftershocks vibrate through me. For a long, long time, we simply hold each other.

"It's late," she whispers, her warm breath tickling my ear and making me shudder again. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Mm," I sigh, "But first, I need a shower."

She's quiet, and then we both chuckle.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**So not exactly a whole lemon yet, more like a small wedge you can squeeze into your tea. :)**

**We have one more part to the never-ending date, LOL, and then we'll get back to real life (at least, real life for these two). ;)**

**One or two have said that these last couple of chapters have been "fillers," and that nothing is happening. Now while I'll admit that they aren't action-packed, if you read between the lines, plenty is happening, especially in this chapter (besides the uhm…dry (or not so dry) humping). Plus E&B are finally getting to know each other. Let's give them an entire weekend to do so before they have to face the realities of the real world. :)**

**And now I'm going back to bed to see if I can finally sleep off this bug. I need a wedge of lemon and tea myself.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	19. Chapter 19 - How Our First Weekend Ends

**A/N: So I was happy to hear that most of you truly enjoyed E & B's long weekend. Yeah, I think there was a lot learned too. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 19 – How Our First Weekend Ends**

**BPOV**

Edward kisses my head softly and then untangles himself from my arms and legs, gently easing me onto the couch.

I lie back against the cushion and watch him lift himself up while my body hums; happy and more _alive_ than I've been in months, maybe years despite the fact that we're still both fully dressed and all we did was some good old-fashioned grinding. I smile his way curiously because he's walking all weird, sort of bouncing from one leg to the other.

"What are you doing?" I snort.

He turns around, bright green eyes wide and sparkling, and continues the strange swagger.

"Trying not to get jizz all over myself."

I break out into fits so powerful that I have to hold my stomach while he scowls at me, which just makes me laugh all the more because I know he's not pissed. I mean, we just got each other off, and I know his body's got to be singing just as much as mine is.

"Not funny," he smirks, but it so is, so we both end up laughing.

"Want to join me?" He asks, quirking a brow and those eyes, Jesus those eyes…they stop the funny, and he just holds my gaze…

And he snorts. "Bath towels in the same place as hand towels?" He jerks his thumb behind him.

"Yeah."

He nods slowly, a crooked grin on his too-damn-handsome-for-his-or-my-own-good face, and then he looks down at his crotch and shakes his head, chuckling while he shuts the bathroom door.

And I throw my head back against the soft cushions of the couch, blowing out a long gust of air through my lips, heart tripping in my chest while I picture him stripping: reaching for the hem of his shirt and throwing it off; pushing down his pants and his boxers full of his…jizz. Right now, he's probably stepping into my glass-enclosed shower, completely naked.

I hear the shower go on.

"Oh Lord," I sigh.

And then smile to myself. Edward is here, in my shower. I just dry-humped the hell out of him and it felt so, so good in so many ways, and…and maybe I don't have to tell him about Eli just yet. I mean, when will he see him anyway? Eli hasn't been around the studio in weeks. I send him his monthly cut and that's that.

Maybe Angie is right and the past should just stay in the past.

And besides, I don't want to upset Edward.

Yes, I believe him when he says that he's got his drinking problem under control, but he's got that temper, and I just got another glimpse of it a short while ago. I don't even want to imagine how he'd react if he knew the rest…

Now these thoughts have the pleasant hum in my body quickly fading. I shake my head back and forth quickly, trying to quiet the voice inside that reminds me that Edward just shared something huge with me; he confided in me and that I need to do the same.

But this is different, it is. His alcoholism is something we'll have to deal with together, seemingly forever. It'll affect so many facets of his life, of _our_ lives if we have the future I'm starting to hope for, while what happened with Eli never has to touch us…never has to exist outside of dark memories…

I shake my head again. I _won't_ allow Eli to affect our lives. He's the past, just like Angie said. That entire part of my life is the past.

And Edward is the present, and…hopefully the future.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward has been out of the shower for over an hour, and though it's two o'clock in the morning and I know we're both exhausted, we've been tumbling around on the couch since he came out.

Fuck, he smells good. His hair is soft and silky, and I'm alternating between running my fingers through it and skimming my hands across his bare shoulders.

His shirt is off, and…I've discovered some things about him.

Well, I've discovered more than a few things about him tonight, from the second he walked in.

But what I've discovered since the shirt came off is that his arms are lined with lean muscles that run up along his forearms and into his biceps. Sinewy veins trace the skin from wrist to shoulder, shoulders that are solid flesh and tendons, and I can't get enough of touching and tasting them except when I stop to kiss his hard chest, to nip at the skin with soft, reddish brown hair, to skim my hands over his tight abs and feel the way they contract at my touch.

It's when my mouth moves over his shoulder that I first see it: swirls of black ink traveling in patterns across his back and further down, but his mouth is on my shoulders, lightly biting, sucking on the skin of my collarbone and my mind goes to other things.

"So are you like, going commando right now?" I ask him when we come up for air.

He snorts again, kissing me once. "Yeah."

I can't help giggling. You'd think all this was new for me.

But it sort of is. All this…flirting, and fooling around without actually…_fucking_. Build-up.

When was the last time I had build-up?

I push all that down.

"What'd you do with your underwear?"

"Threw 'em out," he says lazily, his hands skimming the bare skin of my stomach, mouth tenderly kissing my cheek before returning to suck on my bottom lip.

"What?" I chuckle. "Why? You should've put them in the wash. I would've washed them for you in the morning."

He smirks, mouth moving to my neck, under my jaw, making me shivery and hot all at once.

"Edward," I say breathily.

He sighs, eyes meeting mine. "Bella, you're not washing my underwear."

"Why not?"

He raises a brow.

"So?"

"You're not washing underwear I friggin'…came in." He chuckles, and before I can respond, he puts his mouth on my neck, trailing it up to my earlobe. "Not just yet."

I giggle, and he proceeds to kiss every last giggle out of me.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I can no longer keep my eyes open, I take Edward's hand, and walking backwards, lead him to my bed.

Our gazes remain on one another. I'm only slightly nervous while he follows silently, his eyes shifting to sweep around my room. With no walls, it's open to the rest of the loft, but it's the last room, past the winding staircase, so that offers it some privacy. Neither the floor-to-ceiling windows nor the glass balcony door have any sort of shades or window-coverings, but my unit faces the river, so unless someone's holding up binoculars from Manhattan, there's no way anyone can see.

The room itself is pretty bare except for basic furniture: a four poster bed, a huge dresser, my comfy white, shag rug and the master bath and closet towards the back.

"Nice and big," he whispers.

I'm not sure if he's talking about the room or the bed. "Thanks."

Heart battering against my ribcage so hard it feels bruising, I let go of his hand and with his eyes still on me, push my yoga pants down, lifting my legs so that they pool at my feet and then push them aside with one foot. Then I reach for the hem of my gypsy shirt and pull it off and stand before him in my matching blue bra and boy short panties.

His eyes linger on mine for two seconds, but then he blinks and they lag down, scorching my skin with his gaze. With a deep inhalation, he seems to force his eyes back up. He swallows and slides his long fingers under my neck, guiding me backwards the few steps and cradling my fall when I land over the soft, down comforter.

He hovers over me, darkened eyes intense and no longer wavering from mine, and then he parts my legs with his and lays over me, supporting his weight on his forearms. My eyes dart between his chest and his face.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs.

I watch him wide-eyed, ready to tell him that he is too, and when I open my mouth…a huge yawn comes out.

He throws his head back and laughs out loud, the muscles and veins in his shoulders and neck straining.

"And exhausted it seems," he grins, eyes twinkling.

"Sorry!"

"For what?" he chuckles. "I've kept you up pretty late."

"I don't mind," I smile shakily.

He watches me, and then leans in and kisses me so, so softly, lips brushing mine back and forth, his hands lightly on my hips while his thumbs rub circles on the bare skin over my panties, and I'm melting, a puddle between soft goose down and hard flesh. But then he backs away and easily eases me over to the right side of the bed before flipping me onto my side. I feel him behind me, firm chest pressed up against my spine, underwear-less, denim-wearing torso against my ass, erection firmly between my cheeks.

"_Take off your pants…you'll be much more comfortable."_

The words are on the tip of my tongue. But then he'll be naked and...

And I'm tempted. God, I'm tempted. But we've been so good, and the kisses, the gentle strokes, they mean so much.

Strong hands wrap around my waist and interlace fingers with mine.

"Goodnight, Bella," he says, nestling his face in the crook of my neck, warm breath on my skin.

"Goodnight, Edward." I sigh in utter bliss.

OOOOOOOOOO

He kisses me during the night, a soft peck here, the feel of his moist lips there, on my face, on my hair, my shoulders, my back. We shuffle and move around, but we're always touching, always one of his arms around me, my feet tangled with his.

I know Mel will be back tomorrow night, and I have missed her this weekend, I have.

But how am I ever going to sleep without him again?

And the fact that we're just _sleeping_…that there's no sex involved…that he's holding me without expecting anything...simply makes it all the more wonderful.

So when I feel daylight on my closed lids, but no longer Edward touching me, surrounding me, I panic for about two seconds before I open my eyes.

He's here.

Turned on his stomach, his arms no longer wrapped around me, but rather around his pillow. It makes me smile how peaceful he looks. The generous sunlight streaming in from the windows and the glass, balcony doors shines over his silky hair, and I gaze at it for a few moments before my eyes slowly trail down to his back, to what I now see is a black ink memorial.

The sheet covers most of it, but the top of a large cross peaks out while two black doves fly over each broad shoulder. I carefully trace the intricate artwork, ghosting lightly over smooth skin hardened by constant work, and my eyes sting.

There's more for him to tell me. I know there is. The loss of a brother who was almost like a father, of a sister-in-law who on some level may have been so much more, and of parents to a precocious little girl just becoming a woman is a lot to deal with. The pain is still raw, and God how I want to help take it away from him; from both of them, but a pinch of self-doubt suddenly tickles my stomach because how can _I_ take away their pain? How can _I_ help him and Mel fight their demons when I have my own?

Tears slide slowly down my cheeks while I move in carefully, taking care not to jostle the bed and wake him because he deserves peace. He deserves care and tenderness and…love. When my mouth touches his warm, bare skin, he stirs, mumbling something inaudible and turns around.

"Edward…" I breathe, "Edward, I think I'm falling in love with you so hard."

But his eyes are still closed; warm, steady breaths quietly stream from between his slightly parted lips. Apparently, he's a heavy sleeper. I smile to myself because there's still so much to learn about him.

Dreamily, he reaches out and crushes me to him, wrapping me up in his arms and legs; large, rough hands cradling my back while he mumbles some more.

And I lie there warm and safe in his embrace and close my eyes, drifting once again.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I wake up once more, he's watching me, green eyes bright, relaxed yet intense at the same time. It's that look he gets, like he's trying to figure something out.

"What are you doing today?"

"Laundry," I smile, trying to keep some distance. Morning breath.

But he pulls me close, and I smell his breath, and yes, its morning breath, but just like when he's sweaty after a long day of work, it's not bad.

"How 'bout you?" I ask.

"I guess I'm doing laundry."

I grin widely, and when he pulls my mouth to his and his tongue glides inside, I forget all about morning breath.

OOOOOOOOOO

I offer to make Edward breakfast, but he's anxious to get going. Well, just to go back to his place and pick up his laundry, have another shower. I know he's craving his own toothbrush and a change of clothing. He spends his days in worn clothes and boots, with mud and cement cloaking him, but he's a clean man, and I love that.

So I tell him I'll make us some quick coffee before he goes, and he wanders towards the balcony off the bedroom, slowly swaggering into the Sunday morning, late fall sunshine.

"You can have a smoke out there if you want," I offer because I'm pretty sure he's craving one of those too. He hasn't had one since he arrived last night.

He stops and turns just his head to look at me, shaking it from side to side, hair wild from sleep and last night's kissing and late wash and no shirt and just…perfect.

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

He nods, a crookedly bemused smile on his lips

"What, are you going to quit smoking now?" I tease him.

"Maybe," he grins, stuffing his hands inside his jean pockets and making them ride low on his hips, and I see the deep V outline and the trail…

"Maybe I'll quit anything for you." He winks, and he's got this wicked smile going on.

I grin back at him, feeling all tingly inside.

OOOOOOOOOO

He's still standing by the balcony when I return with two mugs. His: black, no sugar. Mine: café con leche and probably too sweet for the average coffee drinker.

Gazing out at the skyscrapers, he stands still and thoughtful, and I just…stop and stare for couple of seconds, watching the sunlight streaming in surround him because it's just amazing the way it frames the artwork on his back, and I can finally stand still and admire it.

It's breath-taking.

Quietly, I set the mugs down on the small nightstand by the bed.

The cross is braided intricately, with a halo in the background and long, beautiful wings on its sides. It takes up most of his back, straight down his spine. Rays shoot out from every direction; the ones on top illuminate the two doves I was able to see in bed. What I wasn't able to see were the dates under each dove, spelled out on banners, or the angels by his lower waist, one on each side, hands and eyes closed in prayer, with elaborate wings that span halfway up his back.

I trace each complex work of art, the rays, the cross, the dates…up and down his spine, and I feel him shudder.

"Did you design it yourself?"

He nods.

"It must've taken hours to plan out."

"I needed the distraction," he snorts.

My fingers ghost over the names that are forever etched in his skin and soul. Goose bumps rise on his flesh.

"Tell me about…Alice."

He sighs. "She was Jasper's best friend, lived for him and for Mel, and she was…my friend."

"What did she look like?"

He chuckles. "Picture Mel a couple of decades older."

"That similar, huh?"

"Yeah," he snorts. "She was…very pretty…and always…good to me. Even when…even when I'd fall off the wagon, she'd always support me. I didn't accept it back then…what I had, but she knew. She knew and she'd help me get back on, always helping me. She and Jasper…they both would, but she…she never judged. She was special. _They_ had something special." He turns around then, holding my gaze, and I place my hands on his chest.

"She meant…a lot to you."

He studies me and then chuckles once, pulling me into him. I sigh unevenly and rest my head on his bare chest.

"Not the way you're thinking. Did I envy Jasper and Alice? I've thought about it a lot over the past few months and…yeah, I suppose I did. But not because I wanted _her_. It was because I didn't think I'd ever have what they had. I didn't think I…"

I slowly turn my head so that my lips brush against Edward's chest. Soft, reddish-brown hair tickles my cheek while I pucker my mouth against his rapidly beating heart.

"You didn't think you what?"

"I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone that _real_," he murmurs unsteadily and then cradles my head and brings my eyes up to his. "I mean, _I'd_ never seen it before, Bella. Your mother left, but you had your father, and then he had your stepmom. I didn't think I'd ever find someone like _you_." He dips his head down and kisses me softly. "Sometimes…" he grins, "it was hard to be around them. I think a lot of the time I left because I just couldn't watch."

"Why?" I ask, cocking my head sideways.

"Because," he says, reaching out and twirling a few strands of my hair around his finger, watching it intently. "I always wondered…"

"What?" I smile.

"If that sort of…devotion actually existed or if Jasper and Alice were just a fluke."

"I think…" – I swallow thickly – "I think that sort of devotion can definitely exist outside of Jasper and Alice."

Half of his mouth lifts. "I do too…_now_." And the way he looks at me makes my throat tighten.

"They sound like they were so good together. I would've liked to have known them."

He doesn't respond right away, and then swallows thickly.

"I wish you would've known them too."

OOOOOOOOOO

When he returns from his place, he smells fresh: like shower, mint and cigarettes. He admits he had a smoke or two, but tells me that's cutting down for him, which makes me laugh.

We spend the afternoon just hanging out and doing laundry of all things. I've got my own machines, so he tells me that once again, I'm "bailing him out," this time by saving him a trip to the Laundromat. He rolls his eyes and smirks, but I see the hint of humor in his expression, so I let it go, and when he drops a handful of quarters under my shirt while I'm pulling out my unmentionables from the dryer, I chase him around the loft, and then let him catch me and pull out the quarters and oh, those hands…those rough hands feel so good.

Up against the wall, on the couch, over the dryer, in the kitchen, in the bedroom.

We get busy absolutely everywhere, slow and sensual, fast and hot, soft and sweet. He holds me tight, so tight like he never wants to let go. His hands explore under my shirt, kneading over my bra and groaning, but he doesn't take it any further. We grind a little on the couch again, but then stop because we both know that we're right at the edge, and at this point, if we go too far, we won't be able to stop until he's inside, deep, deep inside, and oh I'm full of want. I want so bad.

I want him so badly it's a physical ache in my chest and between my legs, but at the same time, I'm enjoying this…moment of foreplay, this newfound knowledge that two people who want and care can actually fool around without going _there_. It's new to me.

And it's beautiful.

And I think that in his own way, Edward might be enjoying it too. He's adjusted himself about twenty times this afternoon, and my eyes have strayed to his pretty obvious erection a few times. It's big, the tent it makes; like eye-popping big, like whoa, fuck me big - literally.

Anyway, he stops himself, and I know he'll wait. And I think I love him for it because we're not innocent sixteen year-olds embarking on the unknown. He's twenty-eight, and from what he's hinted at, he's been…around. I'm twenty-four and have done things that make me cringe at night. But this…this is good. This is great.

And I don't _think_ I'm falling for him anymore.

I know I've fallen.

OOOOOOOOOO

We have leftover steak, and I make us a fresh salad and dressing for dinner, and he says he's never had actual fresh dressing, and he loves it. Afterwards, we clean up together, and it feels…so good, he and I moving around together so comfortably like we've done this a hundred times and will do it a million times more, and it'll always be this way, this feeling of first yet hundredth time. It's been the quietest, longest and most mellow date I've ever had, especially since almost every date I've ever had in the past few years ended with me on my back or on my hands and knees, with whips and leather and chains and...

Bile rises up my throat and into my mouth as I pack away some food for Edward to take home for Mel, and I'm glad I'm facing away from him because I can feel my body stiffen, the way my head shakes minutely back and forth, begging myself to dispel the images.

Then I feel Edward's hands snake around my waist, and I force myself to relax. His jaw skims up and down my neck, and he hasn't shaved all weekend and yeah…it feels amazing, and every bit of negative tension slowly leaves my body, replaced by that lovely tension only he can give me.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs in my ear, sucking on my earlobe.

"Yeah," I smile, closing the lid on the container for Mel before turning around in his arms because I am okay. I'm fine. I'll be fine.

His brow is furrowed when I look up at him, as if he knows there's something bothering me, but won't push, and I'm grateful and so ashamed at the same time. He gave me his truths, and he deserves mine, but I just need a little more time. Besides, it's quarter to seven, and we're already pushing it with the time here. He's told me about Mel's grandparents; they're rich, Manhattan blue-bloods, who do everything to exact specifications and who drove Alice away with their demanding expectations.

So he has to be home at seven-thirty on the dot, or they'll raise hell.

But neither of us can seem to let go.

I bite my lip. "Hey, are you sure Mel will be okay with this?" I ask, resting my palms on his hard chest. He's leaving, so unfortunately, he's got a shirt on again.

"For the twentieth time," he sighs, "trust me, she'll be fine with it."

I have admittedly asked a few times today.

"It's just that…you know, you're her daddy figure, and I don't want her to think I'm trying to hone in on her territory."

He snorts. "First of all, Mel doesn't see me as her daddy figure. Second of all, I'm telling you, she'll be _fine_," he stresses.

"Okay, okay," I relent. "But you're wrong; she does see you as her daddy figure. At least she's starting to, from what I see. Her face lights up when you arrive to pick her up; she's always talking about how strong you are, and how you help her with her math homework because you're so good at math."

"I am pretty good at math," he grins smugly.

I roll my eyes and chuckle. "Let's just be…careful with how we handle this around her. She's just starting to figure out how she fits in your life. I don't want her to see me as some sort of competition now."

He smirks, and though he doesn't look too convinced, he nods.

"Sure, sure, we'll be careful," he agrees, and then lowers his mouth to mine because our weekend is ending, and we've got to take advantage of every second.

When he pulls away, he asks, "So how did you feel when your dad remarried? Did your stepmom seem like competition to you?"

"No," I shake my head. "I was…relieved when my Dad remarried. He's always been so…controlling of me, and Sue kind of helped him ease up - not too much, but a bit. I mean, it's not too bad now, but when I was a kid, what he said went. Like I've said, I kind of understand where he was coming from, being a single dad. But for a long time…" I move my gaze to the wall just past him – "I equated love with…control…with dominance."

"And when did you stop seeing things that way?"

"I don't really know," I shrug. "One day, I just woke up and decided that…" - my gaze moves back to him – "I just wasn't going to be controlled anymore."

Edward frowns, his lips pursed in obvious disapproval. "I'm sorry, but your Dad sounds like a bit of a hard-ass."

"He's not so bad," I chuckle. "Actually, I promised him I'd go over for dinner next weekend, and…I was hoping you and Mel could come with me?"

He sighs and quirks a brow. "Taking us home to meet the parents, huh? You sure you want to do that? He'll probably have a heart attack when he sees all the shit I let Mel get away with."

"I'm sure he'll love you and Mel both," I laugh. "So…yeah?"

"Yeah, sure, and I'll talk to Mel about being on her best behavior, but I can't make any promises," he grins.

"I'm not worried about that," I smile, then tilt my head sideways and study him. "Edward, do you really not see how great you're doing?"

He snorts, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm serious. I can't even imagine how rough it's been, but considering everything…"

"You mean considering I'm an alcoholic?" he says offhandedly.

"_No_," I say clearly because I won't let him play flip with this. "I mean considering what you've both lost. Considering how difficult that must be for not just one, but both of you. Considering that your own parents weren't…" I trail off. "When you add in the alcoholism," I sigh. "You've had so much shit on your plate, Edward, yet you still take care of Mel while at the same time allowing her to _breathe. _Do you know how strong and brave that makes you, and how strong and brave it'll make her?

He searches my eyes and then pulls me against him. "Thanks," he breathes into my hair. "It's good to hear that. From you."

I kiss his chest, his heart, and he tells me that he's addicted…to me.

And I tell him I'm addicted too.

OOOOOOOOO

It's overwhelming how lost I feel right now.

It's ridiculous really. I've been on my own for a while now, yet sitting here on the couch by myself, I feel like I'm floating all alone on a little blow-up raft in the middle of a huge, black ocean.

So I stare at the TV, not really seeing what's there while I replay every moment of this weekend with Edward from beginning to end. From the moment he called me during my date with James to those last fifteen or so minutes up against the door while he tried to leave again and again, and as soon as he'd wander a couple of feet away, he'd turn back for one last kiss. Over and over, until time was just cut too close and Mel had to get picked up.

"_I'm going to go crazy without you tonight." _

"_I'm going crazy already…"_

"I'm going crazy," I repeat to myself quietly.

Yes, I'm addicted, obsessed, and it's a beautiful addiction. I know what true need is now, and it's not what Eli once told me it was; it's not control or submission, or sharing the one you crave, the one you're supposed to be _devoted_ to.

I shake my head quickly to dispel those thoughts and the images they conjure because he was wrong; so, so wrong, and it took me a while to figure out just how wrong he was, but I did. And now…now I have Edward. _He's_ what I need, what I crave. Not promiscuity nor back doors and secret clubs and made-up rules.

I close my eyes, pushing it all down, down, down and replacing it with Edward, and I fill my lungs with him because I can still smell him all around me, and I breathe. Just breathe.

When the phone startles me, I open my eyes and grab for it quickly, grinning when I see his name flash on my screen. A quick look at the clock over the wall shows me that it's seven forty-five p.m.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he breathes, and I hear the smile and relief in that one, softly spoken word. "You miss me yet?" he asks lowly.

I chuckle. "Yeah. A lot." I won't play games with him. I won't pretend I'm not addicted.

"Me too," he whispers again. We're both silent for a few seconds, and then in the background I hear a commotion. "Alright, alright, hold on!" he says much louder now. "Hold on, Bella."

"Pain-in-the-ass," I hear muttered, but it sounds muffled, like he's pulled the phone away from his mouth.

"Bella?" An excited voice comes on the line.

"Mel?"

"Bella! Yes! Woo-hoo! Yes! Uncle Edward and Bella sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s- Hey, gimme the phone back!"

There's more shuffling around in the background before Edward comes back on the line.

"Still worried about Mel's reaction?"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Love hearing from you guys. Makes me warm and tingly. :)**

**So the date is over, and next week, it's back to the real world…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**

**Have a great weekend!**


End file.
